Father's Day
by Tikatu
Summary: How does Jeff Tracy handle his midlife crisis? How does his family handle him? TV-verse.
1. Prologue

"Scott."

Scott Tracy lifted his head from the edge of the bed, blearily looking at a blurred figure. A few blinks, and the blurriness resolved itself into his next-in-line brother, Virgil. He pushed himself away from the bedside and back into the straight-backed chair, looking first at the figure lying still on the bed and then at the vitals monitor above it.

"It's my turn, Scott. You go and get some sleep." Virgil said softly, laying a hand on his brother's rumpled shoulder. Scott shrugged it off irritably.

"No. I'll stay. You get some sleep." he grumbled, turning back to the figure under the covers.

"Scott!" Virgil's voice was sharp, causing his brother to look at him with narrowed eyes. Having gotten Scott's attention, Virgil moderated his tone. "You aren't doing him or yourself any good just sleeping in the chair. Pour yourself a glass of Scotch and go sleep in your bed. It's my turn to watch."

Scott looked hard at his brother for a few moments, then his shoulders relaxed and he nodded. He looked back at the person over whom he had been standing vigil. The figure with the bound ribs hidden by the covers. The neatly set arm sitting on top of the blanket. The dark bruise on the temple that was the greatest cause for concern because it signalled a concussion. The small scrapes and cuts and bruises elsewhere that the sheets didn't hide.

"How many times has he sat here, waiting for us to wake up?" Scott asked, more to himself than anyone else.

'Too many times, Scott, too many times." Virgil answered.

Scott got up, and moved over to the bed. He picked up the hand that lay on the covers, taking care not to disturb the IV needles in it, and squeezed it gently. Then he stroked the silvery salt-and-pepper hair away from the forehead and whispered softly, "I'll be back later, Dad."

He left the room, looking back only once to see Virgil sitting in the chair, close to the bed, holding their father's limp hand. 


	2. Chapter 1 Bridge Over Troubled Waters

**Chapter One: Bridge over troubled waters**

"Scott! Look out! Rockslide!"

Virgil's shout came a split second before the shale 50 feet above Scott's head began to slide downwards. The rock, loosened by the rain that continued to pour down, came clattering towards Scott's position at Mobile Control. The equipment was sheltered by a tent, a tent that was sufficient to deflect the liquid rain, but not the heavy and solid rain now headed for it. Heeding his brother's warning, Scott jumped out of the way, into the mud outside the tent, while the slabs of rock smashed through the waterproof Penelon and onto Mobile Control. That piece of equipment sputtered and sparked as the rocks battered it, monitors finally going dark. An especially big piece of slate smashed the chair where Scott had perched just moments before.

Scott stared at the mutilated remains of his communications panel, stunned into immobility by the thoroughness of the destruction. Running footfalls splashed up behind him, then a muddy Virgil crouched down before him.

"Scott? Scott!" he shouted over the wind, shaking his brother's shoulder. Scott's shocked face turned upward to meet his brother's eyes. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head.

"I'm all right." he said, getting to his knees and then rising to his feet. One foot slipped in the mud, and his flailing arms were caught on one side by Virgil, and on the other by Gordon, who had followed Virgil to Scott's aid. Once steady on his feet, he shook his arms gently, a signal for his brothers to let go. He turned again to his ruined equipment.

Gordon looked at it and whistled. "I don't think even Brains can put that back together again."

Scott just shook his head and went to disconnect the power supply to the battered control module. Sparks still could occasionally be heard as rain fell into the still live equipment. Scott retrieved a pair of rubber gauntlets from Thunderbird One and a long rod that ended in a rubber-coated hook. With Virgil's helmet light shining on the power connection leads, he expertly disconnected them one by one, shutting down the system and making it safe to transport back into the belly of Thunderbird One. Once the power was well and truly off, Gordon began clearing the device of the rocks and dirt that had smashed it, helped by Virgil, then Scott as soon as the latter had put away his safety implements.

"Alan reports that the Thunderizer is back in the pod, Scott. I don't know about you two, but I'm ready to go home." Virgil said as the three men manhandled the mangled mess into the hold of Thunderbird One.

"You and me both, Virg." Scott agreed, wiping rain from his forehead, but smearing mud over it instead. Gordon wearily nodded his agreement.

------------------------

The rescue had been dangerous from the start. A passenger bus in Nicaragua had been trapped on a tiny island of dirt when the gravel road before it had been blocked by a rock and mudslide from the unstable slate wall above the road and the road behind it was suddenly sluiced away in the days-long pouring rains, sealing off retreat.

The twenty passengers on the bus had nowhere to go, not up the crumbling rock wall, nor down the steep cliff on the other side. What emergency crews there were in this impoverished part of the country were working elsewhere, and so, as the passengers prayed for divine deliverance, the bus driver used his antiquated radio set to call for International Rescue.

Thunderbird One had been dispatched immediately, and John Tracy, doing his monthly rotation in the organization's all-important space station, relayed the particulars of the rescue to Scott en route. As he reached the rescue zone, Scott deployed the mobile camera to give him a good look at the crumbling rock face. The instability of the rock convinced him to deploy the spear-like steel rods designed for holding up large boulders in a rockslide situation. Their sharp ends buried deep into the shale, and just in time, too, as a huge piece of slate slipped from its position and would have crushed the bus had it been free to make contact.

Scott landed Thunderbird One on the road some ways down from the washed out portion and set up his mobile control unit under the tent where a portion of the rock face bulged out then dipped back closer to the road. He thought that the rock face would provide greater shelter there for his equipment.

Landing Thunderbird Two was a different matter altogether. The road wasn't wide enough near the rescue zone for the cargo carrier to land and deposit its pod. However, further down, the steep road dipped, crossing a wide grassy area, and Virgil was instructed to put his vehicle there. It meant a long climb on the hoverbikes and in the Thunderizer, but there was no help for it. It took a good extra 25 minutes for the rescue equipment to arrive, and in that time the rains beat harder and the winds grew stronger. Their rain slickers were doing their job in keeping their torsos dry, but boots were getting soaked and trousers were getting muddied just from the violent weather. It was only when Virgil, Alan, and Gordon arrived that Scott was able to formulate a plan of action.

"The winds are too strong here to winch any one down or lower the rescue capsule. That's why I opted for the Thunderizer. With some heavy duty cable and some strong mesh netting, we can build a bridge over the sinkhole for the passengers to cross on foot." Scott explained, showing them his idea on a monitor screen at Mobile Control. His three brothers looked at him dubiously. Then Alan spoke.

"That's all well and good, Scott, but in order to do this, we have to get someone over there with the equipment to ram the spikes and set up that side of the bridge. That hole is thirty feet across if it's a yard. Who's going over and how is he getting there?"

"We'll use the Thunderizer to send over the first cable, and give instructions to the men on the bus on how and where to fasten it down. Then one of us will go across on the cable, fastened in a motorized harness." The three younger brothers looked at each other again. Scott looked at them, exasperated. "Do any of you have any better ideas?"

There were a few moments when the only thing that could be heard was the wind and rain. Then Virgil, Gordon, and Alan began to collectively shake their heads. "No, Scott." "I don't." "I guess not, Scott."

"Okay. Let's get cracking."

The cable was prepared, and Scott had John contact the bus driver and translate the instructions into Spanish for him. Having done that, John succinctly told Scott what he thought of this hare-brained scheme, a harangue which caused Scott to momentarily cut off communications with the space station. When he tuned his brother back in, it was not the more nasal tones of his tall blond brother that greeted him, but the gruff voice of his father that spoke to him and bawled him out for cutting the space monitor off. Scott winced at the reprimand, and assured his commander that it would not happen again.

The Thunderizer coughed loudly and the cable sailed across the chasm. Three men from the bus came out and grabbed the end of the cable and attached it to the chassis of the bus itself for safety's sake. The other end remained attached to the Thunderizer, which backed up to take up the slack.

"Now, who's going over?" Scott asked. None of the brothers volunteered.

"Paper, rock scissors," Virgil decreed. The three younger brothers put one hand behind their backs, then Virgil counted to three and the hands came out, each making a certain shape. Alan and Virgil had their hands held out as fists, but Gordon had his index and middle fingers held like a sideways 'V'. He groaned as he saw the fists.

"Rocks break scissors. Gordon goes." said Scott. Gordon went over to the Thunderizer and pulled a harness out of its storage compartment.

"I don't want to use the motorized winch, Scott," he explained as he tested the harness before fastening it on. "If either side of the cable gave way, I'd be motoring down into that sinkhole. I'd rather use my hands and knees and shimmy over there. That way, if something happens, I'll still have a grip on the cable." Scott nodded as Gordon drew on climbing gloves.

Gordon walked over to the edge of the chasm. A torrent of water ran down through it, gathered from the hills and funneled down to this one point. He made sure his hard hat was secure, took the tool kit Virgil handed him and fastened it to his harness in front. Then he sat down on the crumbly edge of the hole, attached the harness clip to the cable, grabbed the slick metal rope with both hands and swung his knees up over it. Alan, held firmly by Virgil, reached over to tighten the strap that linked harness to clip. Then he clouted his brother's helmet gently, and Gordon began the dangerous journey across.

The tool kit, which contained a sledgehammer and heavy-duty metal spikes, weighed down his belly, and he had to compensate by tightening his back muscles. The wind and rain howled around him, shaking the cable, making it slick, trying to pry him loose. But he kept on, fastening his eyes on the bus across the way, until finally his booted feet touched the graveled surface of the road and strong hands reached out to pull him up.

Scott let out his held breath as Gordon stood and waved a hand across to his brothers. His wrist telecomm crackled to life and Gordon's face appeared, a cocksure grin plastered on it.

"Piece of cake, Scott. Piece of cake." he boasted.

Scott nodded sagely. "Right, Gordo. How would you like to come back the same way?" he quipped.

"Nah. I've given you enough gray hairs for the day. I'll come back on the bridge. Speaking of which, this weather isn't getting any better. We'd better get a move on. Gordon out."

The rest of the rescue went relatively smoothly. The netting, hung securely on several cables with hand holds for the timid, made an excellent bridge. Gordon stayed over on the other side to herd his charges to safety. One old lady was terrified of the crossing; she jabbered on in rapid-fire Spanish and crossed herself repeatedly. It was only when Alan, with his boyish good looks and his hard-to-resist blue eyes, came over and took her two hands, that she could be persuaded to venture onto the bridge. He walked backwards, speaking to her soothingly in Spanish, keeping her gaze on him as they made their way across. When she found herself on the other side of the chasm, she hugged Alan fervently and pinched his cheeks repeatedly, while thanking him profusely. Scott didn't know which made Alan's cheeks flame more; the hug, the thanks, or the pinches. Gordon crossed the bridge last, watching as another bus came up the mountain to retrieve the wet and weary passengers. Alan took the Thunderizer back down to Thunderbird Two, and Gordon was just heading toward Mobile Control when the rockslide headed for Scott's position.

Now they were headed home, looking forward to a warm shower, dry clothes, and hot food. Scott grimaced as he thought what the reaction would be to the destruction of Mobile Control. It would take weeks to replace, and in the meantime, what could he rely on? Hopefully their engineer, Brains, would have a clever solution for him.

"Thunderbird One to base. Request permission to land."

The deep voice answered, "Permission granted. And welcome home, son."


	3. Chapter 2 Don't Get Around Much Any More

Oops! Forgot the disclaimer in Chapter 1 so here it is now: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far.

* * *

**Chapter 2--Don't Get Around Much Anymore**

"Hey, Scott!"

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"You know that Father's birthday is next month."

_sigh_ "Yes, I know."

"Well, we have to do something big this year."

"Why? Just because he's turning 60?"

"Well, yeah. That's a milestone."

"You really think he wants to be reminded of it?"

A moment of silence ensued.

"I... I guess not."

"So, we do the same thing we do every year. We have a special dinner at Penny's, we toast his good health, and we go home to the Island. Nothing special. No big reminder that he's getting older."

_sigh _"Okay, Scott."

Jeff overhead the conversation between his two oldest sons as they sat by the pool relaxing.

_I'm turning 60. The big six-oh. Should I be happy I've made it this far with my health and all my faculties intact? Should I be looking at this as a milestone, something to be celebrated? Or is it just the back half of my life? The beginning of the inevitable spiral into old age?_ He had no answers, for himself, or his sons.

Many of his friends, when hitting this age or near this age, seemed to go crazy. They divorced their wives, picked up some sweet young thing to marry, sired a couple of children on her, and spent their money profligately. A sad and wasted attempt to recapture their youth.

Jeff had no illusions about that. He still missed and mourned his sweet Lucille and had no desire to remarry, especially since any woman he might choose would be held up to the measure of Lucy's memory and be found wanting. He had five sons of whom he was justifiably proud. Grown men, able to stand on their own two feet. Who would want to go back to the days of diapers and two o'clock feedings? Though Jeff supposed that the new trophy wives took care of that or they shoved the children off onto an _au pair_ or nanny.

And money? Lord knew he had enough of it. Hard earned, well-invested money that ran this operation known to the world as International Rescue. Nothing he could buy could measure up to the satisfaction of rescuing those who had no other hope. And he wasn't one to spoil his boys either. He had taught them the value of hard work and of giving back instead of taking.

Still, there was something, something he couldn't put his finger on, something he felt was missing. Something that he had in his youth that he would recapture if he could do so.

He went into his room and closed the door. Opening the closet door to reveal the full-length mirror, he removed his shirt and looked at himself critically. He saw an older face, with silvered hair, on the body of a younger man. He was still toned, still trim, still fit. He worked out every day, swimming, running, using the weights. He sparred with his sons occasionally in the gym, keeping up his skills in the martial arts. He could be found at the shooting range, challenging himself to become a better marksman. There was nothing flabby about his mind, either. He read technical journals, newspapers, business publications, and even did the occasional crossword puzzle. In ink.

So, what was missing?

Jeff donned his shirt again. He took out a bottle of Scotch, and poured himself a shot of it, and kicked it back. He looked at the bottle. _When did this become so important?_ he wondered. He put the bottle away, and rinsed the shot glass out in the bathroom sink. Wiping his mouth, he left his room and went out to the lounge. His lounge. His desk. His command. Not like his first command. Not like the voyage to the moon. The painting of the rocket caught his eye. Now that was a time! The excitement, the terror, the sheer grandeur of it all. The adrenaline.

That was it. _Adrenaline._ The rush of excitement that caused the heart to beat faster, the breath more shallow, the euphoria of danger met and conquered. He got a modicum of it every time the boys went out, but that was different. Mixed with it was terror and fear, fear for his boys, pure and simple. But not the rush, not the jazz that the boys felt whenever they spat in death's face. The reason men his age bought sports cars and fast boats. Adrenaline.

But he was too old to go out on rescues. He didn't have the experience. He couldn't hold his own. Or could he? He had always said that he never asked his sons to do anything he wouldn't do, couldn't do. But how did he know that? In a flash he had decided what to do about his "mid-life crisis".

He smiled. He had a lot of preparation ahead of him.


	4. Chapter 3 Say It Isn't So

**Chapter 3--Say It Isn't So**

"Scott!"

"Yes, Father?" Scott was startled to get see his father's puzzled face on his telecomm watch.

"I need your help in the simulator, son. Please come down here right away." Jeff looked worried now.

"FAB, Father." Scott ran down to the simulator, just outside the main lab and part of the laboratory blockhouse. He stopped at the door and read the keypad to see what program was running. _Thunderbird One? Why is Dad doing that simulation?_ He opened the door, and found his father sitting in what would be the pilot's seat if it were truly Thunderbird One.

"I crashed her, Scott. And I need to know why. I recorded my session. Would you go over it with me and show me where I... goofed?" Jeff had a deeply puzzled look on his face.

"Uh, sure, Dad. I'd be glad to." They turned toward the monitor that showed the recording of Jeff's simulated flight and crash. Scott looked at it carefully. His father had done very well, until...

"Oh, there! Do you see that, Dad? The wings weren't fully in place before you made your dive. It's a timing thing. I've got it down in my bones by now. This light over here," Scott pointed to it, "needed to be green before you moved from horizontal flight. It was still red."

Jeff nodded at his son's explanation. "I see, now. I'll have to try it again and make sure I've got it right." He looked up at Scott and smiled. "Thanks, son."

"Um, Dad? Can I ask why you're doing this?" Scott's curiosity had been piqued by his father's unusual activity.

Jeff colored a bit. He didn't want Scott to know his real reasons. Yet.

"Just some practice, reacquainting myself with your Thunderbird. So I can give you better direction on the field," he prevaricated. Scott gave him a long look, then decided not to pursue the matter.

"Okay, Dad. If you need any more help, just holler."

"I will, Scott. And thanks again."

Scott left the simulator, deeply thoughtful.

Over the next few days, all of the Earth bound brothers were called into the simulator one at a time to answer questions about their particular Thunderbird. Gordon was particularly tried as his father was a pilot and astronaut not an aquanaut, and the two disciplines, flying and sailing, used different terms and measurements.

When the boys were too busy to help him, Jeff turned his attention to the auxiliary machinery that stood in the hangars. He would call for Brains to help him through the start up and shut down procedures, and would ask the engineer incessant questions.

Finally, Scott called a meeting of his brothers, inviting Brains and Tin- Tin to join them. They met in one of the comfortably appointed lounges in the guest accommodations of the Cliff House, a place where they knew they would be undisturbed.

"We need to figure out why Father is doing this, why he's putting us through our paces in our Thunderbirds," Scott declared.

"The reason he gave me is that he wanted to be able to give us better direction on the field," Virgil said, shaking his head.

"That doesn't cut it," Gordon said. "I think he's just testing us, making sure we know what we're doing with our Thunderbirds out there."

"Th-then why is he, uh, working with the, uh, M-mole, the F-firefly, and the, uh, Domo?" Brains asked. "I-it just doesn't, uh, make s-sense. And at th-this rate, I'll never g-get the, uh, modifications made t-to the n-new M- obile Control unit."

Alan looked thoughtful, "It's almost as if...." He shook his head. "Nah! Never happen."

"What, Alan?" Scott asked, interested in his brother's unfinished thought.

Alan looked sheepish. "No, Scott. It's too stupid. Dad would never do it."

"Alan, if you have an idea, spill it!" Gordon said impatiently.

"Yes, Alan. Please tell us," Tin-Tin coaxed gently.

Alan squirmed under the gaze of five pairs of eyes. Finally he spoke.

"It's almost as if he were training himself to go out on rescue missions with us."

Alan's thought seemed to turn on the lights in the mind of each person there.

"Of course!" Virgil exclaimed. "That's it! He wants to go out on missions with us! It's the only answer that makes any sense!"

Gordon looked confused, "Yeah, it makes sense if there's a reason why he would want to do something so..._ unlike_ him as that."

Scott and Virgil looked at each other. Scott said softly, "I think I might have the why for you, Gords." He looked around the room. "Dad is turning 60 this year. It's a big milestone for him. Most men his age either are going through, or have already been through a mid-life crisis of some sort. They are trying to recapture their youth, usually by doing things that rip out the fabric of their lives and their families' lives. Dad would never do the things that some of his friends have done; he's too stable a personality for that. But think about it. What was Dad's crowning acheivement in his youth?"

"The moon mission," Alan promptly replied.

"Right. And don't you think he would want to try and recapture some of the emotions of that mission? The rush, the excitement of it all? What's the one way he could do that today?" Scott spread his hands as he asked the question. There was a moment of silence as everyone thought about what Scott had just said.

"By going out on rescue missions," Gordon finally said, nodding. He looked up at Scott. "I guess it does make some sick sense." He shook his head, lowering his eyes. "But I really can't believe it of Dad."

"Believe it, Gords," Alan said forcefully. "I know just how he feels when you guys are out on missions, and he's stuck at home behind a desk and can't do a damned thing to help. It's the same feeling John and I get when we're stuck up there in Thunderbird 5. I just didn't think he would actually go through with something like this."

"He hasn't yet, Alan," Tin-Tin pointed out. "And it still may be that he will think better of it, if this is indeed his idea."

"Let's hope so," Scott fervently wished. "In the meantime, what do we do? We can't exactly keep him from using the simulator."

"I have an idea," came a voice from nowhere.

"John? Is that you?" Virgil looked around to see where his spacegoing brother might be. "Where are you?"

"In Thunderbird 5, nitwit," John said irritably. "Brains saw fit to let me in on this confab since none of you thought of doing it." Brains held up his telecomm to show John's scowling face on the screen.

Now it was Scott's turn to look sheepish. "Sorry, John. It's just that Dad hasn't used the Thunderbird 5 simulation at all. So we didn't think you... needed.... " Scott's embarrassment was evident as his voice trailed off.

"You didn't think, all right." John retorted. "And you're right about the Thunderbird 5 simulation. Why in the world would he want to come up here and do the same thing he does from his comfortable desk there on the Island?"

"Well, what's your idea, John?" Virgil asked quickly, before John could continue in that vein.

"We all know that there's more to rescue work than just knowing the equipment. There are so many skills we've all had to learn in order to do rescues safely. Rappelling, scuba diving, parachuting, rock climbing, orienteering, and lots more. Why don't you all get him to do some of those things with you? It might open his eyes to skills he doesn't have and maybe he'll realize that going out on rescue missions is more trouble than it's worth for a man his age."

John's suggestion was met with nods of approval all around. Then Brains spoke up.

"Y-you might want to, uh, ask h-him to help you w-with the maintenance of, uh, your Thunderbirds. Perhaps seeing again j-just how much w-work it takes to, uh, m-maintain the equipment would, uh, open his eyes, t-too."

"That's right." Virgil responded. "If he was to go out on rescue missions with us, he'd probably feel that he had to pull his own weight there, too." He turned to the engineer, "Good idea, Brains." Brains blushed and looked down at his shoes.

"All right, then," Scott said, rubbing his hands together. "We'll start Operation... Change of Mind tomorrow. Who wants to go first?"

Gordon put up a finger, "I will, Scott. I'll take Dad out scuba diving tomorrow. It's been ages since he's been out there. Then he can help me with monthly maintenance on Thunderbird 4. It hasn't been done properly for awhile."

"Good, Gordon. We'll start with you then. And make up a roster of things to get him involved in during the next few weeks." Scott said.

"Remember, he'll have Tracy Industries work to do, too." John reminded his brothers. "This little scheme will take him away from that, and he'll see how much business piles up while he is gone doing rescue work. He's still very hands-on with the company, you know."

"That's true, too." Scott agreed. He looked around the room again. "This has got to look natural, like we are just trying to get him more involved in our lives, in doing things we like to do, in spending time with him. Keep that in mind when you approach him, okay?" There were nods all around. Scott looked at his watch. "Almost time for dinner. Let's catch the monorail back to the Villa. And Johnny?"

"Yeah, Scooter?" John shot back Scott's old nickname just as Scott had used his.

"Sorry for not calling you in. We should have thought of you," Scott admitted.

"Damn right you should have. Better not forget again." John gave his older brother a smile and a wink. "Good luck with Operation Change of Mind. I'll be happy to do my part when I get dirtside again. Talk to you later, bro."

"Yeah, John. Later." The little screen on Brains' telecomm went dark.

"C'mon Brains, let's get some dinner," Scott said as they walked together to catch the monorail back to the Villa.


	5. Chapter 4 'Round Midnight

Oops! Forgot the disclaimer in Chapter 3, too, so here it is now: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far.

* * *

**Chapter 4-- 'Round Midnight**

"Scott?"

"Uh, yes, Grandma?"

"You haven't eaten much. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, Grandma. Just thinking about... things." Scott applied himself to the food on the plate in front of him. He was trying not to look at Gordon, trying not to send Gordon the silent message to ask their father to go scuba diving with him. Gordon was eating at his usual clip and not saying too much as the dinner conversation swirled around him. _If he keeps his mouth full, he won't be able to ask Dad anything!_ Scott agonized silently.

Gordon finally wiped his mouth, his plate temporarily empty.

"Hey, Dad? I was thinking I should go out and see how the artificial reef is doing, see what corals have taken root there. I need a buddy to scuba with and all this lot are busy tomorrow. Could you come with me? I'd appreciate the company." Gordon explained.

"Well, I can't tomorrow, son. Lots of work to do with the new budget projections for Tracy Industries. Maybe some other time." Jeff answered, barely looking at Gordon as he did so.

Gordon looked down as if truly disappointed and replied, "Oh." He looked up again at his father, "That's okay, Dad. Maybe some other time." He looked down at his plate, then sighed heavily and picked up his dinner ware. "Please excuse me," he asked as he left the table.

_Good job, Gordy!_ Scott inwardly praised his brother. _Now let's hope Dad realizes you left the table having only eaten one helping and no dessert!_

There was a long, silent moment after Gordon left the table. Grandma Tracy stared after the copper-haired man as he walked out of the dining room. "That's odd," she remarked.

Jeff looked over at his mother. "What's odd?" he asked her.

"Well, it's not like Gordon to leave the table after only one helping and without dessert," she explained. "I'm going to go see if he's feeling well." She began to rise from the table, when Virgil held on to her arm and gently sat her down again.

"Don't worry about Gordon, Grandma. He's probably just disappointed about his planned reef trip. He's asked all of us to go and we're all booked, either doing maintenance on our Thunderbirds or around the Island," Virgil said to her, keeping his voice at a lowered volume but making sure his father could hear what he said.

"Well, really now. He should know better than to get so upset at such a little thing," Grandma exclaimed. "He's a grown man and should be able to take a little disappointment now and again."

"Yeah, I suppose he should, Grandma," Alan agreed, between bites. "Too bad it will be a long time before he can see what he was looking for out there."

Jeff looked up and over at his youngest son. "And why is that, Alan?"

Alan looked over at his brothers as if to say, "Help!" Scott jumped in to aid him.

"Gordon got some special photographic equipment so he could take pictures of the reef at night. He wanted to get film of the coral spawning. From what he's tells me, tomorrow night is the probably the best time to catch the coral in the act."

Virgil added, "Yeah, coral spawn only once a year. It will be a long while before he can see it happen again on our artificial reef."

Scott sincerely hoped that their father didn't realize how much of this was made up and how much was true. The part about the camera equipment was true. Gordon had just upgraded his underwater photography kit, and the special new lenses would make it far easier for him to take pictures of places like the reef at night. And it was true that Gordon wanted to get shots of the coral spawn. But the part about it happening tomorrow night was just so much blarney.

"Hmm. That's too bad. Maybe he can see it happen at another reef. We do have several." Jeff said, eating his piece of pie a la mode. He finished his coffee and stood up. "Thank you, Mother, Kyrano. That was delicious. I'll be in the lounge if anyone wants me." He left the table and headed for his desk.

Kyrano picked up his dishes and took them out to the kitchen. The three Tracy sons looked at each other and shrugged. _It was worth a shot,_ Scott thought. _Maybe Gordon can come up with a different approach._

Scott snuck a piece of pie into Gordon's room.

"Thanks, Scott." he said, tucking into the dessert with relish. "Did Dad say anything after I left?"

Scott sat down on Gordon's bed.

"No, not really. Alan came up with the brilliant idea that it would be a long time until you could see something at the reef that you wanted to see." Scott made a face and shook his head. "Fortunately, I mentioned your wanting to photograph coral spawning at night, and Virgil backed me up."

"Coral spawning! That won't happen for another month!" Gordon exclaimed, spewing crumbs of crust everywhere.

"Well, I didn't know that!" countered Scott, a peevish look on his face. "It seemed to be a plausible explanation of a need to go diving. And a night dive is more dangerous and needs a 'buddy' even more."

Gordon finished his pie. "I'm sorry, Scott. You're right. It was a good excuse on short notice. What did Dad say?"

"He seemed sympathetic, but said you could catch it at another reef some other time. Quote: 'We have several'. "

Scott sighed. "We'll have to come up with another plan. Maybe another activity. Come back to scuba diving later." He put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Good try, bro. We'll go with something else."

"You'd better make sure you're all busy tomorrow. All day. Even into the evening," Gordon reminded Scott. "That was your excuse why you couldn't go."

Scott groaned. "I'll remind everyone else. Including Brains and Tin-Tin. After all, they could have gone diving, too." Gordon nodded.

Scott got up and picked up Gordon's plate. "I'll take this back to the kitchen. Don't want Grandma to think that you're feeling better. She wanted to see if you were sick, you know."

Gordon grinned. "That's our Grandma! Looking out for us all the time!" He stretched and grimaced, rubbing at his lower back. "I think I might go for a swim." Scott knew that the rescue of a few days ago hadn't done Gordon's lower back any good. But complaining about his back pain was just not something that Gordon did these days. He wanted his father to think he was always fit and ready for action in hopes that he didn't get left at home as much as he did in the early days of IR.

"Are you gonna be all right, Gords?" Scott asked, concern in his blue eyes. Gordon turned to him, wincing as he did. He smiled wryly.

"Let me get into the pool and work these kinks out. I'll be fine." he responded. Scott gave him a long look, then nodded. A swim would the best thing for Gordon; he never tired of it and it did help stretch the muscles when they contracted in spasms, as they seemed to be doing now.

"I'll turn the pool lights on for you," Scott said, getting off of Gordon's bed and heading for the door as his brother began to change into swimwear.

"Thanks, Scott." Gordon said over his shoulder. Scott caught a glimpse of Gordon's many scars and once again was thankful that his ginger-haired brother actually could stand there, was standing there, for him to see and speak to.

--------------------------

Jeff shut down his desk for the night, raising it up out of the way, keeping its secrets safe. He was weary from the long day he had put in, both in the Thunderbird 2 simulator and with his Tracy Industries work. _I'm going to have to start training the boys to pick up the slack at Tracy Industries. It will eventually come down to them anyway and they might as well learn its ins and outs early._

He turned off the overhead light and was startled to see the lights around the pool were burning. _Who's swimming at this time of night?_ he asked himself as he checked his watch. Curiosity piqued, he left the lounge and headed down the stairs to the pool.

A soft rippling of the water greeted his ears as Jeff walked down the stairs. _Thank goodness that they're not being noisy, whoever they are._ He came down closer to the pool itself and saw a lone figure gliding smoothly through the water, barely making a splash as he went back and forth, from one end to another. Jeff smiled as he watched Gordon's prowess displayed.

_He's still got such a smooth stroke. I wonder how much farther he would have gone in WASP if not for that hydrofoil accident?_ In the lights of the pool, Gordon's figure was almost a silhouette and Jeff couldn't see the scars that he knew decorated the back of his fourth son. He sat down by the edge of the pool and just watched quietly until Gordon noticed his presence.

"Hey, Dad." Gordon called as he stood in the water, wiping it from his face, pulling his goggles up to the edge of his swept-back hair.

"Hi, son. Kind of late for a swim, isn't it?" Jeff asked. Gordon shrugged.

"Wanted to get the kinks out of my back," he replied.

Jeff's eyes widened a bit. Gordon had not admitted to his back pain for some time now, though Jeff knew him well enough to see when the old wounds were bothering him. It had become a "don't ask, don't tell" issue between them; Jeff wasn't to ask how his son's back felt, and Gordon wouldn't tell him, so with Jeff's supposed ignorance between them, Gordon always appeared ready and raring to go rescue someone.

"I guess that rescue the other day didn't help any, did it, Gordon?" Jeff finally asked. Again Gordon shrugged, then he grinned ruefully.

"Would have been better if I hadn't lost at 'rock, paper, scissors'," he answered. Jeff chuckled along with him.

Jeff looked long on his son's face._ It has been so long since we've done anything together as father and son. It always seems I am too busy, or that it doesn't seem important to spend time with one's grown children. But I won't be around forever...._. He made a decision.

"Gordon? I've reconsidered your offer. I'd be glad to go diving with you tomorrow. If you're still interested, that is."

"Still interested? Of course, Dad! I'd love to have you go with me! Thanks!" Gordon's delight was evident in his voice and in the ear-to-ear grin that lit up his face. Jeff grinned right along with him.

"What time would you like to go?" he asked. Gordon stopped for a minute and thought.

"How about late afternoon? I want to try and catch the coral spawn, and they only spawn at night. It would give us time to set up my new camera equipment before dark." Gordon looked apologetic. "I'd suggest we go earlier, but I really have to do some maintenance on Thunderbird 4 before I can go. I hope it doesn't take all day....."

Jeff thought for a moment. "Well, Gordon, why don't I give you a hand with the maintenance? I should be keeping up-to-date on that aspect of all of the Thunderbirds anyhow. I can start easy, with the smallest of the craft." He winked at Gordon. "And they say that many hands make light work."

"Oh, that's great, Dad! I really appreciate the help. What time?" Gordon asked eagerly.

"Right after breakfast. Get an early start on it." Jeff gave Gordon a sly look. "That is, if you can get up for breakfast...."

"I'll be there, Dad, I'll be there!" Gordon laughed as he finally climbed out of the pool and began to dry off. He walked over to where Jeff was getting up from his spot by the pool. Gordon reached down to give him a hand up, but Jeff, mindful of his son's back, waved it away. He got up with a bit of a groan. "The old man's not used to sitting crosslegged on the concrete anymore," he quipped. Gordon smiled at him.

"You, old? Never!"

Jeff reached out to put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. Together they walked up the steps to the Villa. As they entered, he withdrew his hand to head for his own room.

"See you in the morning, son."

"Sure thing, Dad."

Gordon waited until Jeff was safely inside his own soundproofed bedroom before he headed for Scott's room. He knocked on the door and whispered right up to the wood. "Scott! Open up! It's Gordon!" He knew his oldest brother was a light sleeper and would hear him through the door.

Sure enough, a few moments later, the door opened and a disheveled Scott stood there in his pajama bottoms.

"This had better be good," Scott growled, then yawned.

"It is," Gordon answered as he brushed past his brother then stood to face him.

"Well?"

Gordon grinned. "Operation: Change of Mind is go!"


	6. Chapter 5 Under The Sea

Hey! I remembered the disclaimer this time! And here it is: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far.

* * *

**Chapter 5--Under the Sea**

"S-scott?"

"Yes, Brains?"

"C-could you give me a hand h-here?"

Scott turned to see Brains almost losing his grip on two of the new components they were using for building the replacement to the demolished Mobile Control. Scott hurried to help the scientist, taking one from Brains' arms so that Brains could reposition his hands for a better grip on the remaining piece. They moved the parts over to a work area, where the mulitple pieces of the new unit were spread out on a tarp. Brains was almost ready to put the components together and begin testing the hardware while Tin-Tin worked on the upgrades to the software. The new unit would be much less bulky, with flat screens that folded out on two sides, a main keyboard, a mulitfunction microphone, and an antigravity unit to make it easier to move. It would fold down to the size of a washing machine, and new clamps would be installed in the belly of Thunderbird One just to accommodate the smaller box.

"I-it's good to have a d-day where your f-father is not, uh, underfoot, so t-to speak," Brains said with relief in his voice. Scott nodded. He knew that the engineer had been frustrated by the constant interruptions to what he saw as his more important work. Scott looked over to where Gordon and Jeff were working on Thunderbird 4 together. _How did Gordon get him to do that_? he wondered. _I'll have to ask. Hopefully I can do as well when my turn comes._

"Okay, Dad. Release the laser barrel!" Gordon said into his telecomm. Jeff, inside Thunderbird 4's cramped control room, nodded and toggled a switch. The laser beam's barrel slowly eased out of its port in the front of the small submersible. Gordon frowned.

"That's much too slow," he said, making a note on his checklist. "Looks like we'll have to lubricate all of the bow mechanisms."

"FAB, son. Do you want to get started on that now?" Jeff asked. Gordon nodded.

"It's probably the biggest maintenance issue I've seen today," he replied. "I'll go get the special silicone lubricant, and then we can work on getting the nose off for maintenance."

"FAB." Jeff responded.

Gordon strode over to where Scott and Brains were working, passing them by and heading to the supply closet. Scott took a moment to follow Gordon into the closet.

"How's it going?" Scott asked.

"Great! Dad is being a big help. I can hardly wait to scuba with him this evening. Makes me wish the coral spawn was tonight!" Gordon said with enthusiasm. He reached up for the jar of silicon lubricant and searched around for some work gloves to protect his hands while he applied it.

Scott listened to his brother, amused. _It's almost like he were a teen again and Dad had promised him a special outing._ "Sounds like you've got things under control. Just make sure you're not too easy on him during your dive tonight. We want him to see how difficult scuba can be, not how much fun it is."

Gordon gave his brother a puzzled look. "But, Scott. For me, scuba diving is fun. Making it hard will be difficult in itself. But I'll try." He clapped Scott on the shoulder and took his supplies back to Thunderbird 4.

Scott was taken aback by Gordon's comment. _Fun? Scuba diving fun?_ Then he thought of himself in Thunderbird 1. _I guess it's like the feeling I get flying my rocket plane. I'm going into danger and maybe even death, and I'm having the time of my life doing it._ He chuckled wryly at the image then turned back to Brains when he heard the engineer call.

--------------------------------

"This camera equipment is top of the line, Gordon! An excellent choice!" Jeff observed as he looked over the kit. He sat in his wetsuit on one of the benches that lined the edges of the cabin cruiser's deck. He put the lens he was examining back into its compartment and closed up the carrying bag, then joined Gordon at the helm.

"How much further to the reef?" Jeff asked. Gordon turned to him with a cheeky grin.

"Almost sounds like one of us during a car trip when we were kids, Dad." he commented. His voice became nasal and shrill, "Are we there yet?" Jeff laughed at Gordon's impression of himself as a whiny child.

"Point taken, Gordon." Jeff held up a hand. "Now, refresh my memory. This artificial reef, what did we use to make it?"

"Mostly rock from our excavating the Island. Not anything really exotic like old cars or shopping carts or defunct shipping. Just good clean rock. The coral really took off here, too. There are some spectacular varieties adding to the reef as well as dozens of great tropical fish species taking up residence here. Between the coral and the fish, the colors are amazing! I want to do a survey of the fish as well as see if there are any new corals and how far the older ones have spread." Gordon gave his father a look. "I'll admit that I'm not sure if the coral will spawn tonight or not. But the conditions are favorable."

"Sounds like a very involved project, Gordon. I had no idea that this was such an interest of yours." Jeff smiled a bit. "I should have realized it, of course, but there's so much about the sea that I don't know....."

"It's okay, Dad. There's a lot about space that I don't know. We each have our spheres of interest. I'm glad you agreed to come out in mine today." Gordon smiled back, his cheeks flushing pink. He looked around. "I think we're here. Let's drop anchor then we can finish suiting up."

The two men helped each other with their tanks, checking and double checking their air gauges and going over the hoses, making sure everything was perfect for this dive.

"Keep an eye out for sharks, Dad. I've got a shark stick with me. Do you have one?"

"Yes, son. I do," he replied.

Gordon grinned. "Good. Definitely do not want to swim these waters unarmed, eh, Dad?"

Jeff hooked his stick onto his suit's belt while Gordon picked out the parts of the camera he wanted to use right then, putting them together. Then the two men put on their face masks and jumped in.

Jeff was blinded at first by the bubbles created by his own entry into the water, but the bubbles soon cleared and he was able to see Gordon swimming ahead of him.

"You with me, Dad?" Gordon's voice sounded directly into Jeff's ears through a set of mini-speakers under the hood of the wetsuit.

"Right behind you, Gordon," he said into the microphone built into the full face mask. He was still amazed at the quality of the equipment that Brains had designed. The mask itself was the breathing apparatus, a clear polyhexane shield that covered his face from chin to forehead. Special regulators on the sides released the carbon dioxide and regulated the moisture that could condense inside the mask and make vision impossible. He could breathe as easily as if he were topside and speak as easily, too.

But his mind was torn from the marvels of the technology that helped him breathe when he approached the reef and was confronted with the marvels of the sea before him.

_The fish! So many colors, shapes, and sizes!_ He could hear Gordon's voice murmuring in his ear, even though his son was actually doing a running commentary to a recording device on the cruiser, verbally making notes about what he had discovered on the reef. The extent of the reef amazed Jeff, too. It seemed to extend for a half mile or more. He knew that not all of the excavated rock had gone into building it, but still, there was an awful lot of it!

The recording went on for over an hour, with Jeff swimming just behind Gordon. Every so often he would ask Gordon a question about the sea life he saw swimming around him, and Gordon would answer with an eager tone to his voice. Finally the commentary stopped, and Gordon turned to his father.

"This looks like a good place to set up the camera, Dad. Would you give me a hand with it?"

"Sure, Gordon. Just tell me what needs to be done."

Together, they set up the weighted tripod in an area of clear sand at the base of the pile of rock where there seemed to be a good concentration of brain coral, the rounded lumps with the curvy ridges and valleys that suggested the surface of the human brain. The camera itself was simple to put together, but difficult to attach to the tripod. Jeff could hear soft cursing from Gordon as he struggled with mounting the camera to its support. Then there were the lights to be set up as well, three of them. They would be turned on by remote control from the boat.

Jeff noticed that the clear waters were becoming more and more murky as the sun went down. It was getting harder and harder to see around him, and Jeff was concerned about their return to the cabin cruiser.

"There, that's done!" Gordon said, turning to his father. Jeff could barely make out the face behind the mask, and Gordon's grey wetsuit didn't help matters. He seemed to blend into the murky water. Jeff was glad that his own wetsuit was black and neon orange; between the two colors, Gordon should be able to see him fairly well.

Suddenly, the water became black as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon. Jeff found himself disoriented by the lack of light. It almost felt like the sensory deprivation training that he had gone through during his astronaut days. There was no up or down, just the empty waters around him. His heart rate began to increase, and his breathing as well.

"Gordon? Son? I'm a little lost here. Did you bring along a light to guide us back to the boat?"

_Silence._

Jeff swallowed, hard. His mind went back to the terrible testing, the dark silence of the tank in which he had been suspended, much like he was now, deprived of sight and sound and touch.

_I will not panic._

"Gordon? Where are you?" Jeff fought hard to keep his voice steady, to not let his rising fear show.

Suddenly, someone or something grabbed him. _Shark!_ was his first reaction, and he fumbled at his waist for the shark stick. But then something tapped gently on his face mask. Tapped gently in a code that Jeff recognized.

"Comm out." was the simple message. Jeff reached out to find his son's arms around him, pulling him. _We must be headed towards the surface,_ he thought, and began to kick, helping the pair to move along. After what seemed like an eternity, Jeff's head broke the surface. Above him were a multitude of stars, shedding their light so that Jeff could see Gordon a mere yard away from him. Gordon turned him around, and he could see the outline of the boat just a dozen yards away from them. Jeff breathed deeply, and began to swim strongly for the craft.

They pulled themselves aboard and sat on the deck, pulling off the face masks, pushing back the close fitting hoods, and leaning back on their hands. Gordon looked at his father, saw how pale he was in the starlight, and almost regretted turning off his comm link. But Scott had said that he shouldn't go easy on their father, and that was the hardest thing about his job as IR's resident aquanaut that Gordon could think of: diving alone in dark, unfriendly waters.

Jeff put a hand on Gordon's arm. "How did you know I was having trouble?"

"I couldn't sense you behind me. There's a special movement to the water when two people are diving together; a special ripple, if you will. I couldn't feel it, so I knew you were stuck somewhere. I called you and that's when I realized that the comm was down." Gordon was glad of the dark that kept his father from seeing his blush of shame, "The neon stripes on your suit are actually fluorescent, so finding you was easy." Jeff looked down to see that the orange edging did glow in the dark of the night around them.

"I'm truly sorry, Dad. I didn't expect us to be out quite this late so I didn't think we'd need personal lights. I should have taken them anyway, been better prepared." Gordon hung his head.

Jeff put moved his hand to Gordon's shoulder. "You can't anticipate every scenario. How many times have I sent you out on rescues with the equipment I thought you needed, only to hear you or your brothers say, 'I wish we had such-and-such here.'? And equipment fails, usually when you expect it least, and need it most." Jeff grinned. "Murphy's law in action. The main thing is, Gordon, you kept your head and came looking. And that's what mattered." He let out a pent-up breath, running his hand through his hair. "I don't mind telling you that I was feeling a sense of déjà vu down there. I felt like I was going through sensory deprivation training all over again."

"Oh man! I remember that! Wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!" Gordon exclaimed. Then he stopped to think. "Well, there's one guy I would wish it on. But he's the only one and he'd probably enjoy it anyway." Jeff knew that Gordon was referring to their old enemy, Belah Gaat.

"Well, son, now that we're back on the boat, let's turn on those lights and see what's happening down there on the reef." Jeff got up from the deck stiffly, stifling a groan, but offered Gordon a hand up. Gordon waved his hand away and lithely picked himself up off the deck. He stepped over to the viewer that was set up near the gangway to the cabins.

"Okay, now. Lights, camera, action!" Gordon programmed in the codes and pressed a key or two and a faint light covered the water about 30 yards off the starboard side. He turned his attention to the vid screen and saw the coral and the other rooted life on the rock formation in clear, vibrant color. The lights had scared the fish away, but that was a momentary thing, he realized. They would be back.

Jeff sauntered up behind his son and admired the camera's clarity. "I'm going to get us something to eat. That dive worked up a real appetite."

"And you wonder how I can eat so much!" Gordon joshed. "Doing what I do takes lots of energy!"

Jeff laughed and headed into the tiny galley to gather food and drink for him and his son.


	7. Chapter 6 Pick Yourself Up

Hey! That's twice in a row with the disclaimer! And here it is: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far.

* * *

**Chapter 6- Pick Yourself Up**

"Scott!"

"Yes, Grandma?"

"Please see what's keeping your father. He should have been up long before now."

"Yes, Grandma."

Scott padded down the hall to his father's quarters. It was 9 a.m. and Jeff was nowhere to be seen. His personal assistant on the mainland, Jeannette Sharpe, had already called twice with emergencies at Tracy Industries that Jeff alone could handle. Jeannette was getting antsy and Grandma had remarked that she couldn't see why Jeff was still abed so late in the morning. Especially since he had taken the day off from his company in order to go scuba diving with Gordon.

Scott was about to knock on the door when he heard a loud, "Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz" sound in his father's room, then a mumbled curse and a crash, as if something had hit the floor and broken. Scott grinned. He rapped sharply on the door.

"Dad, Grandma sent me to see what was keeping you." No way was Scott going to take the blame for rousting his father out of bed!

He could hear an incoherent mumbling on the other side of the door, then it swished open and his father stood there, blinking, trying to brush back his silver hair with one hand.

"What time is it, Scott?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"After nine, Dad. Grandma wants to know....." Jeff cut him off.

"Tell your grandmother I will be in the kitchen for breakfast by 9:30." Jeff said, his effort to wake up very evident in his thick speech.

"Yes, sir."

Jeff turned around and the door shut in Scott's face. Scott smiled; whatever Gordon had done with their father last night was going to work in their favor today. He went off to the kitchen to give his father's message to Grandma.

Jeff wobbled into his private bath and disrobed. He turned the shower on to hot, as hot as he could stand, and stepped in. He let the water run over his back as he leaned on the wall, his forearm cushioning his head. _That was one long night!_ His eyes slipped shut as he remembered.

They had waited for hours on the boat, watching the moon make its smooth silver way across the starry night sky. Gordon eagerly watched the coral on the viewscreen, hoping to collect some footage of the yearly spawning. Jeff became bored after a couple of hours and asked Gordon to let him know if anything interesting happened.

But three a.m. came and went and nothing happened. Four a.m and still nothing. Finally, around 4:30, a disappointed Gordon gave it up.

"I knew it might not happen tonight. The conditions were favorable, but...." he shook his head. He left the monitor on, and took the helm of the cabin cruiser.

"We'll move over to the reef and break down the equipment." Gordon said as he started up the motor. Jeff got up from his seat and went to suit up.

"No, Dad. I'm not breaking down the camera underwater. It would take too much time. You stay here and bring the equipment aboard as I bring it up. I think we'll work faster that way."

"Are you sure you'll be all right doing that, Gordon?" Jeff asked, skeptical, his own recent scare fresh in his mind.

"Yeah, Dad. You turn on the floodlight and point it down here. It will keep me right side up," he explained with a grin. Jeff nodded, and began to set up the floodlight.

A half-hour later, the cabin cruiser was headed back to the Island. Jeff was physically exhausted and wanted nothing more than his own bed. But it wasn't until around 6 that morning that he finally got his wish.

Jeff opened his eyes with a start. _I can't believe I fell asleep in the shower!_ He picked up the soap and slowly began his morning ablutions.

At 9:45, he appeared in the kitchen, to the glare of his mother, and the puzzled look of his friend and retainer, Kyrano. He sat down at the kitchen table, where Kyrano, anticipating his need, put a cup of fresh coffee before him. He smiled and thanked the Malaysian, and began sipping from the hot cup. In a few moments, he was tucking into his breakfast.

"Has anyone seen Gordon this morning?" he asked between bites.

Kyrano shook his head. "I believe that Mr. Gordon is still asleep, Mr. Tracy. Would you like me to wake him?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, Kyrano. Let him sleep. If he's anywhere near as tired as I am from yesterday, he'll need it."

After breakfast, he entered the lounge, yawning and stretching, wincing as a shoulder muscle complained with a burst of pain. _Oooh. That hurt! I guess all that hard work I did on Thunderbird 4 yesterday has caught up with me._ He shook his head as he made his way over to his desk.

"Good morning, Father. Did you sleep well?" asked Virgil, who sat at the piano, scanning some sheet music before he began to play.

"Well enough but not long enough," Jeff replied as he lowered his desk from its slot in the ceiling. He sat in his chair, grunting as a stiff back muscle made its presence felt, then he turned to the vid phone. Dialing a number he knew by heart, he was soon looking at the harried, middle-aged face of his personal assistant.

"Good afternoon to you, Jeannette. What have I missed?" he asked, and the woman on the other end of the line began to list the emergencies he needed to take care of right away.

Virgil watched for a while as his father worked on the Tracy Industries business that he had neglected the day before, then he bade his father farewell as he strolled down to the terminus of the monorail. There, he met Scott, Alan, Brains, Tin-Tin, a newly awakened Gordon, and surprisingly, Kyrano. The group took the monorail out to the Cliff House again for another conference on Operation: Change of Mind.

"I thought it would be wise to bring my father into the loop on this plan," Tin-Tin explained. "He deserves to know what's going on and may be able to help us behind the scenes."

"I agree," Scott replied. He turned to the retainer and began to explain. "Kyrano, we believe that because Father is turning 60 and is feeling old, he wants to go out on rescues with us. Try to recapture some of the feelings of excitement and the adrenaline that he felt when he was younger and an astronaut. He's been training on the simulators, asking questions, and basically driving us crazy. We are trying to get him to change his mind by showing him the difficulties inherent in the rescues and by showing him the many skills that we've had time to learn and develop that either he doesn't have or he's rusty at. Scuba diving was the first of them."

Kyrano nodded, "I understand now why he has been spending so much time in the simulators. I will help in whatever way I can."

Scott smiled at him, "Thank you, Kyrano. Pulling you into this scheme is a good idea." He signaled John in Thunderbird 5 on his telecomm.

"Hey, John. We're having another planning session on Operation: Change of Mind. Thought you might want in on it."

"Oh, yes! I want to hear from Gordon on how his assignment went." John said with a grin. Gordon rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and grinned back at his space bound brother.

"Well, Dad caught me having an evening swim the other night and told me he'd go with me on my scuba dive to see the coral spawn." He shot a sharp look at Alan. "When I told him I couldn't go until after I did some maintenance on Thunderbird 4, he offered to give me a hand with it. He really got down and dirty with the maintenance, too; it was a big help. Then we went out to the artificial reef in the late afternoon and checked things out there. We set up the camera and lights for the recording just before it got really dark. When the sun set completely, I turned off my comm link and let him stew in the dark water for a little while." At the sounds of disapproval from the group, he added, "You told me not to go easy on him. The hardest thing that I go through in a diving rescue is getting caught in dark, unfamiliar waters. I felt he needed to know how that felt."

There was a moment of silence as the brothers looked at each other. Gordon had never mentioned anything like this before and it stunned them to know that there even was something that bothered him about his role as an aquanaut.

"Please, Mr. Gordon, continue your narrative." Kyrano quietly prompted. Gordon nodded and complied.

"After just a few minutes, I found him and together we swam to the surface then over to the boat. We compared notes about sensory deprivation," Gordon made a wry face, "and then went about setting up the viewscreen to watch for the spawn. We ate, then the long wait began. I had to keep looking eager for something I knew was not going to happen, but Dad got bored after an hour or so and spent the rest of the night stargazing. He certainly didn't sleep, because I didn't let him. About 4:30, we packed it in, brought up the equipment and headed for home."

Gordon paused, then added, "Neither of us hit the bed until at least six."

"Yeah, and Grandma made sure that Dad was up at nine, too," Scott added with a grin.

"This explains to me why Mr. Tracy was so tired at breakfast," Kyrano observed, nodding his head and smiling.

"Sounds like you did a great job, Gords!" John added. "Now what's next and who's gonna do it?"

"A-as I s-see it, the, uh, problem is, and will be, to g-get him out from b- behind the desk without arousing his, uh, suspicions. Come up with a p-plan that, uh, requires his p-presence," Brains said thoughtfully. "What k-kind of scenario can w-we come up w-with to make this h-happen again?"

"Depends on what the next skill is that we want him to experience." Alan replied.

There was silence around the group as each tried to think of what to do next.

"A malfunction of some kind on the Island?" Tin-Tin ventured.

"Perhaps one that knocks out communications," Virgil added.

"Yes! And on the day Thunderbird Three comes up to get me!" John said, excited. "That way, Scott and Alan would be out of the way."

"But what about the rest of us? We'd still be there to help with whatever catastrophe happened," Gordon said.

"Not if you took Grandma shopping, using the helijet," Scott suggested.

"Yeah, and Tin-Tin could ride with us in Thunderbird Three," said Alan with a grin.

Everyone was nodding their heads in favor of the plan until Brains spoke up.

"Th-that would leave V-virgil... and me," he said quietly.

"Hmmm. That's right," Virgil said, thoughtfully. "There's very little that we can do that you can't, Brains." He stroked his chin as he thought. "Unless.... you were somehow injured?"

"Injured?" Brains asked suspiciously. "How? And wh-where?"

"We could fake a sprained wrist or ankle," Alan suggested.

"N-no. I w-won't deceive M-mr. Tracy like th-that," Brains replied in a stubborn tone, shaking his head.

"Then there goes that plan," Virgil said sourly. "There's no way we could get Dad away from the desk if there are two of us to fix a malfunction."

"Let's not throw the idea out, Virg. What kind of malfunction could we have? And what skill would Dad have to go back and relearn, or learn in the first place." Scott said, playing the peacemaker.

"W-we could have a c-communications, uh, mast go down. Without the, uh, helijet, whoever was to fix it would have to, uh, climb t-to the promontory and, uh, climb the m-mast as well," Brains suggested. "Unless we used Thunderbird Two...."

"And it wouldn't have to be a catastrophe," John said with sudden inspiration. "We could do an upgrade to the communications that would require recalibrating the frequency boxes. That would explain Tin-Tin coming up here with you." Scott nodded at his brother's idea.

"That would mean rock climbing and rappelling. I don't know if Father knows how to do that." Virgil said doubtfully. "We won't be using Thunderbird Two, that's for sure."

"Why not? We used it last time a mast needed repair," Alan reminded his brother.

"We won't because Thunderbird Two needs new tires and I'll have the wheel bays open to change them." Virgil informed them. "No way Dad will interrupt that process."

"He could climb the mast if he got up there." Scott replied. "I think he could do it, or at least could belay whoever does the rappelling. He'd see how difficult it was anyway."

"Okay, then we'll try it. Perhaps Brains could be in the middle of a delicate experiment...." Alan said.

"Perhaps." Brains agreed.

"So the balloon on this goes up in two days," John remarked. "I can't wait to get back down dirtside and think up something to do with Dad."

"You know, going scuba diving with him was fun, even if I had an ulterior motive. I almost felt like a kid again, carving out time for myself with the old man," Gordon said.

Scott nodded, "I noticed that. I'll have to think up something for myself then. Besides flying. We all know that Dad's an expert at that." Everyone laughed at the comment.

"I have a question," Tin-Tin said, "Should we bring Mrs. Tracy into the loop on this?"

There was a long silence as the people around the room looked at each other. Then almost simultaneously there was a chorus of: "No!" "I don't think so." "Better not." "Uh-uh." "No way!"

"Why not?"

"Tin-Tin, if Grandma knew what we suspect Dad is trying to do, she'd just walk up to him and tell him to put the idea right out of his head," Scott explained. "And, Dad, being as stubborn as he is, would just dig in his heels and continue with it. He has to change his own mind about this thing. Hopefully what we're attempting will help him do that." He paused, then began again.

"Okay, Phase Two of Operation: Change of Mind will be underway in two days' time," Scott said. "Virgil is point on this one. The skills: rock climbing and rappelling. We'll iron out Brains' part in this before then. Are we all on the same page?" He looked around the room, seeing the nods of understanding. "Let's get back to the Villa before we're missed. And, John, we'll see you in a couple of days."

"FAB, gang!" John said as his picture winked out.

Scott was following the group out when Kyrano touched his arm. He held back as the retainer pulled him aside and said, "If there is no solution to Mr. Brains' involvement by the time we need one, leave it to me. I have an idea."

"Okay," Scott said, confused. Kyrano bowed, a slight smile on his face, and Scott had to wonder what the Malaysian had in mind. He decided that, at this point, he really didn't want to know.

----------------------------

Scott walked through the lounge on his way from the beach. It was late, but there was still a light on at Jeff's desk. Scott walked over to him.

"Hey, Dad. Burning the midnight oil?"

Jeff looked up at Scott and gave him a weary smile.

" 'Fraid so, Scott. My excursion with Gordon yesterday caused a good deal of work to pile up at Tracy Industries."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Scott. I'm almost caught up. Thanks for the offer, though."

Scott nodded. "Better finish up soon and get some sleep, Dad. Never know when a rescue will turn up."

Jeff looked at him, "I could say the same for you, Scott. Better get some shut-eye."

"On my way there, Dad. Goodnight." Scott sketched him a wave as he left the lounge.

"Goodnight, Scott." Jeff called as he turned his attention back to the memos he was electronically signing and sending out.


	8. Chapter 7 Hangin' Around With You

Hey! I'm on a roll with the disclaimer! And here it is: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far.

* * *

**Chapter 7--Hangin' Around With You**

"Scott. All systems ready for launch."

"FAB, Alan. Thunderbird Three requesting permission for launch." Scott radioed to the lounge in the Villa nearby.

Jeff's voice answered, "Permission granted. Be careful and we'll see you in a few hours. Have Tin-Tin let us know when communications will be down. Virgil and Brains will be able to handle the recalibrating the masts down here."

"FAB, Father. Countdown to launch, T minus ten seconds. Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one... liftoff!"

With a roar, Thunderbird Three threaded through the eye of the Round House, its rockets carrying it quickly out of sight. Virgil, in Thunderbird Two's hangar, felt the vibration of the spacecraft's departure. He had been working hard since early that morning, exposing the wheels of the cargo carrier in order to change the massive tires that allowed her to trundle down the runway to her launching point.

"This will take me the better part of a day," he muttered to himself._ I hope I'll be able to get Dad out to do the climbing and rappelling we'll need to get up to the promontory and back. Brains has been really stubborn about faking an injury; he just won't lie to Father about something like that. Can't say that I blame him. He'd have to keep up the fakery for a couple of weeks at the least. Not a fun prospect,_ he mused.

He looked up into the wheel well, his gaze searching for wear and tear on the ball joints and the struts. There were none; the metals Brains had put into the suspension system were virtually indestructible.

_Scott said that Kyrano had an idea on how to incapacitate Brains temporarily so that he couldn't go up to the promontory with me. I wish I knew what it was. And when he planned on putting it into effect._

Virgil picked up his pneumatic air wrench and started to loosen the lug nuts on the front starboard tire. They were on good and tight, Virgil noticed with satisfaction. But it meant more work to take them off. He smiled grimly and got down to business.

Jeff was enjoying the quiet of the house; it was a nice change from most days. Gordon had offered to take Grandma to nearby Moyla for some shopping, using the helijet as their transportation. Brains was working in the lab, as usual. Virgil was doing maintenance on Thunderbird Two. And Scott, Alan, and Tin-Tin were on their way to pick up John and do some recalibrations on the communications system to make the signal output clearer.

The upcoming holidays meant a little more juggling of schedules as far as Thunderbird Five was concerned. Both space monitors liked to be down on Earth for Christmas and New Year's, and since one of them stayed up there over Thanksgiving, the other would go up for a week in December to make up for the missed holiday.

This year, John had sacrificed his Thanksgiving celebration. So Alan would stay up for the next week and then John would fetch him, and they would both be home for Christmas, putting a newly reprogrammed Braman in the station for a week. Then Alan would start his new rotation on January 3rd, the day after Jeff's birthday. _That big 6-0 again,_ Jeff thought wryly.

"Lunch is ready, Mr. Tracy," Kyrano's soft voice broke the quiet of the room. Jeff looked up from his Tracy Industries cost projections and smiled at his old friend.

"Thanks, Kyrano. Shall I call Brains and Virgil?" he asked. Kyrano nodded. Jeff reached out and toggled the switch to call the remaining denizens of the Villa to lunch.

Brains acknowledged the call, and slowly made his way up to the kitchen. Kyrano had approached him with his idea, saying that he would not attempt to put it into effect without Brains' full knowledge and cooperation. It would not be a deception, the retainer had stated, but a planned accident. Brains was still uneasy about it, he knew how dangerous it could be. But he had checked on the supplies they would need in the aftermath, and, satisfied that they were plentiful and easily accessible, agreed to the plan. He just hoped that Kyrano wasn't going to kill him with this scheme.

Lunch was delicious, as usual, and made more special by the fruit smoothies that Kyrano had prepared for the men who sat around the table.

"They are banana-strawberry smoothies, Mr. Tracy, Mr. Virgil. Mr. Brains, I made yours banana only, as you have so often requested." Kyrano said, a smile on his face but a concerned look in his eye as he watched the engineer.

"Th-thank you, K-kyrano," he said as he began to sip the fruity drink. It did taste like just banana, and for a moment, Brains thought that Kyrano had decided that the plan was too risky and wasn't going for it. But then he felt the familiar flush of his skin, the watering of his eyes, and the beginnings of the breathing difficulties that were part and parcel of his allergy to strawberries. As he began to wheeze, Virgil rose out of his seat in alarm, as did Jeff. The two men recognized the symptoms, the quickly spreading rash, the breathing that became more ragged as the allergic reaction continued. Brains stood up, and Jeff caught him before he could fall over.

"Virgil, the epi pen! Go grab it!" he shouted as Virgil scrambled from the kitchen, sprinting for the sick room. Jeff held Brains upright as the wheezing continued and less and less air was able to reach the engineer's starved lungs. Suddenly, Virgil reappeared, a pen-like syringe of epinepherine in his hand. Jeff grabbed it and jabbed it into the side of Brains' neck, where the carotid artery was found. The three men watched and waited for signs that the reaction was over, Kyrano wringing his hands, looking frightened and pale.

Finally, Brains' breathing began to improve and his face, deadly pale beneath the rash, began to show signs of color again. Jeff sighed with relief, and looked up at Virgil.

"Let's get him to the sick room," he commanded, taking Brains by the shoulders and motioning his son to take the engineer's legs. Together, they gently carried the sufferer to the small infirmary, laying him down on a bed and turning on the diagnostic panel above his head.

"Blood pressure looks good, respiration still up," Virgil said, his knowledge of basic emergency medicine coming to the fore. He searched around and found the blood oxygen level sensor, putting it over the patient's forefinger and hooking it up to the diagnostic monitor. "Blood oxygen levels are still low, though. You'll need to stay here for a while, Brains." He pulled an oxygen cannula out, fastening it around Brains' head and putting the ends inside Brains' nostrils, then attaching it to an oxygen bottle.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Brains!" Kyrano said as he came up to the semi-conscious scientist, his face full of anguish. "I made the smoothies for Mr. Tracy and Mr. Virgil first and must not have cleaned the blender of the all the strawberry residue." This was partially true. As a matter of fact, he had just rinsed the blender out quickly, an action that bothered him greatly, but not as much as inflicting this ordeal on Brains. At heart, Kyrano liked a clean kitchen, with sparkling clean appliances.

"I's s'okay, Krano," Brains slurred between his swollen lips. He hadn't had a reaction like this in a long, long time. He had forgotten how bad it felt, how bad he felt, and he had no desire to repeat the experience. _Never again!_

Jeff watched worriedly as Virgil did what he could for Brains. Once Virgil seemed to be finished, Jeff looked across the bed at his second-born. "Will he be all right?"

Virgil looked down at Brains. "He should be. We got the epi to him in time. Now we just have to wait for the swelling to go down and his blood oxygen levels to get back to normal." He gave Brains a wry smile, then looked over at his father. "He's not going anywhere today, I'm afraid."

Just then, Jeff's telecomm watch beeped. He raised his left forearm to see Tin-Tin's face in the miniature screen that replaced the watch face.

"Yes, Tin-Tin?" he asked.

"You asked me to tell you when communications were going down. They will be shut off in 90 seconds. Are Virgil and Brains ready to recalibrate the masts?" she asked.

Jeff almost hit his forehead. In all the excitement over Brains, he had forgotten about the communications upgrade. He frowned. _How are we going to recalibrate those masts now without Brains?_

"We have a problem, Tin-Tin. Brains has had an allergic reaction and is recuperating. He won't be able to help with the recalibrations," Jeff explained.

"Oh, no! Is he all right?" Tin-Tin exclaimed, a hand over her mouth.

"He will be, but there's no way that he's up to working on this project. Can we put it off until Gordon gets back?"

"I'm afraid......" Tin-Tin's face was abruptly replaced by Jeff's watch face. He groaned.

"Not now!" Jeff said, turning and leaving in a hurry for the lounge. Virgil looked at Kyrano, gave Brains' arm a quick squeeze, and hurried in his father's wake. Left in the sick room, Kyrano pulled a chair over to the side of the engineer's bed.

"Neva gonna led you do sumding like dis do me agin," Brains said slowly.

"Again, I apologize, Mr. Brains. And do not worry. I will not ask it of you again." Kyrano said with a small smile.

In the lounge, Jeff tried to raise John in Thunderbird 5, hoping that Tin-Tin's abrupt cut off was a malfunction in her watch. But John's portrait stayed just that, a portrait, as did Alan's and Scott's. Jeff sat down heavily at his desk, then turned to Virgil, who had been watching his fruitless actions.

"Well, I guess we'd better get Thunderbird Two airborne. I've had enough time in the simulator to pilot her for this little job." Jeff said, rising from the desk again.

"Uh, Dad. We can't use Thunderbird Two."

"Why not?" Jeff asked. Then he groaned as he remembered. "You're changing the tires today, aren't you?"

"Um, yeah. I've got the starboard bow tire done, but the port bow tire is off and waiting to be changed." Virgil explained.

"Well, then we'll use the helijet...." Jeff's voice trailed off as he thought about where that particular aircraft had gone. "Why did Gordon take that this morning?"

"I think he wanted the extra cargo space." Virgil answered. "Just to tease Grandma, you know."

Jeff nodded wearily. "How are we going to get up there without the aircraft?"

"Well, Dad. I can always climb up to the promontory. It's not that hard." Virgil offered.

Jeff thought a moment. Then he shook his head. "It might not be hard, but it's dangerous. Plus you'll have to climb the masts themselves to get to the frequency boxes." He rose from the desk again. "You really need a partner on this. I guess that means me." He looked at his chestnut-haired son. "Go get the climbing gear and the equipment we'll need for the recalibration and meet me at the hover bike shed in 20 minutes." He looked down at his neatly pressed slacks and button-down shirt. "I'll need to change into something more suitable for climbing."

"FAB, Father." Virgil saluted Jeff, and went off to find the gear and equipment he had already stashed in a convenient storage closet. On the way back, he took a detour to the sickroom and looked in on Brains and Kyrano. Brains was dozing, but his color was better and the swelling in his face and hands was going down. A quick look at the diagnostic panel showed Virgil that his blood oxygen levels were also improving. He gave Kyrano a sharp look.

"If I'd known that you were going to pull such a dangerous stunt, I would have objected. Loudly." Virgil said, a hint of anger in his voice.

Kyrano looked at him with a calm demeanor. "Mr. Brains and I discussed this stratagem in depth before implementing it. I did nothing to Mr. Brains that he himself did not approve of beforehand."

"Oh." was all Virgil could say for a moment. He paused for thought. "Then I apologize for my rudeness. I was not aware that Brains knew this would happen."

"I accept your apology, as Mr. Brains has accepted mine." Kyrano smiled, then stood and bowed. Virgil returned the bow and left the infirmary to wait for his father near the hover bikes.

When Jeff finally appeared, Virgil did a double-take. His usually well-dressed, well-pressed father was wearing a pair of bike shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. The muscles in his arms and chest were clearly in evidence, as were his trim thighs and calves. There was even a hint of the well-defined abdominal muscles beneath the shirt.

Virgil kicked himself mentally. _We are so used to seeing Dad behind the desk that we think he's gone soft physically. I know I had forgotten how often he works out and how trim and fit he still is. Now that I see him in this light, I know how much harder it will be to keep going with Operation: Change of Mind._

"Ready, Virgil?" Jeff said as he strapped his climbing gear over the back of a hover bike.

"Ready, Dad," Virgil replied as he kicked his bike into gear.

They sped along the beach, heading for the promontory at the end of the island. The grade up to the site was too steep for vehicles to use without digging a long, switchback pathway up to the top. Jeff had considered cutting a stairway out of the rock, but that would have been just as or more difficult to build than the path. Besides, it was both good sport and good practice for the boys to climb the rock face and then rappel back down to level ground again. Jeff hadn't had time to do it himself, and he was actually looking forward to the challenge of the rock face.

For Virgil, this was old hat. He had climbed that rock face so often over the past three years that he felt he could do it in his sleep. He started to mentally plan the easiest way up to the top when Scott's comment about going easy on their father came to mind. _Okay, Scott. I won't go easy on him. I know just the route to take._

Jeff slowed his hoverbike to a stop and waited for Virgil to catch up. He turned to his son and asked, "Okay, where do you want to start?"

Virgil looked at the cliffside as if determining the best approach and then turned his bike to the right. "Follow me, Dad. I think the best place is over here."

They reached the spot that Virgil had indicated. Jeff looked up at the cliff and frowned. _You'd think he would make it easy on his poor old dad, wouldn't you?_ he thought as he gazed at what looked like a nearly sheer rockface.

Virgil started pulling out their climbing supplies. He looked over at Jeff.

"I've free soloed this face before, Father, and can do it quickly. If you like, I can get up there and anchor a rope. Then you can use it to come up. Or, we could lead climb and I'd belay you from the top of the cliff, while you belay me down here on my way up. Which do you think?" Virgil asked.

Jeff stared at his son at his mention of free soloing. "You have climbed this cliff without rope? Even for safety? That's pretty risky, Virgil."

"Well, yes, Father. I have. I know that free soloing is dangerous, but it's a big thrill! However, we usually free climb with harness and rope for protection. Scott and I have gotten very good at lead climbing together." Virgil said, an eager light in his eye.

"What would you do during a rescue mission?" Jeff asked.

"Oh, lead climbing for sure, Father. It's safer and still flexible," Virgil answered.

"Well, then. I guess we'll do that," Jeff said with trepidation.

Virgil nodded. "I've got the all equipment right here. Could you hand me the harnesses, Dad?"

"Here they are, Virgil." Jeff pulled out two climbing harnesses. They were different from the full body harness that Gordon had used on their last rescue in that they fit around the waist and thighs only. Virgil pulled on the straps that made up the harnesses, and satisfied to their soundness, handed one to Jeff while putting one on himself. Threading a rope through the loops of his belt, Virgil added a belaying device to the harness for use when he reached the top. He hung the other safety devices, hex and wedge protectors and quickdraws, to his belt with carbiner clips.

Jeff threaded the end of the long rope through a belaying device, creating a loop and hooking the resulting loop to his harness with a locking carbiner, a d-shaped ring with a small gate for admitting the rope. This would help him stop Virgil's fall should he happen to slip.

Finally, both men put on helmets and climbing gloves. Virgil took a moment to look down at his father's shoes.

"I didn't know you owned any climbing shoes, Father," he remarked. Jeff grinned at him sheepishly.

"I don't. I'm borrowing Scott's. We wear the same shoe size."

Virgil barked a short laugh, then turned and headed to the base of the wall. He looked upward and called to his father, "On Belay."

Jeff thought hard for the response. At last he said, "Belay on," indicating he was ready.

"Climbing!" Virgil called as he began to make his way up the rock face.

"Climb on!" Jeff responded with a grin. It had been a long time.

It didn't take Virgil too long to get to the top of the cliff. He set the hexes or wedges into the cracks where he felt they would be of most use should he slip. Jeff took up the slack on the rope as the younger man climbed, keeping the rope threaded through the belay device. Eventually, Virgil disappeared over the top of the cliff. Jeff waited for a few minutes, then Virgil's head reappeared.

"On Belay!" Jeff shouted up to Virgil.

"Belay On!" came the loud answer.

"Climbing!"

"Climb On!"

Jeff climbed carefully, trying to follow the path that Virgil had already taken, using the same hand and footholds. As he passed each hex or tapered wedge, he pulled it out of the crack where it had resided and fastened it to his belt by the quickdraw. At one point, his foot slipped, and he fell against the rock face, scraping up his elbows and knees.

"On belay!" he shouted again.

At the promontory, Virgil felt the shift in the rope's tautness and braced himself. The fact that the belaying mechanism tightened up told him that his father had not fallen far. He called, "Belay on!" telling his father that he was holding on and would not let him go.

Jeff lay against the cliff for a few moments, catching his breath. Then he felt around for another foothold. When he found it, he called out again. "Climbing!"

Virgil let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Climb on!"

It seemed an eternity to Virgil before his father's head came over the edge of the cliff. He hurried forward to give his dad a hand, but it was waved away and Jeff pulled himself up to the promontory. Jeff stood, leaning over, hands on his knees, breathing hard for a few moments. Then he looked up at his son and grinned.

"You cannot convince me that this was an easy climb, Virgil. You took me the hard way up, didn't you?"

Virgil sighed and grinned back. "Well, there are harder ones, Father. And... there are easier ones, too. But really, this is the shortest climb timewise," Virgil told Jeff.

Jeff looked at his watch and groaned. "Time. Communications have been down for nearly 50 minutes. There's not a moment to lose. We've got to climb the masts and get those boxes recalibrated." He looked over at the silvery masts at the top of the rise. "Let's go."

The masts themselves were between 30 and 50 feet high and although they looked easy to climb, they were still dangerous, especially the one that overlooked the straight drop down to the sea. Virgil came up with the idea of using the quickdraws as if they were hexes or wedges, and using the rope to keep them safe should they fall. Jeff fell in readily with the idea. Virgil climbed the first mast, placing the quickdraws around the crossed struts as he went up, while Jeff belayed him at the bottom of the mast. Then he pulled the safety devices off as he came back down after completing his task at the top of the mast. Virgil and Jeff alternated who climbed and who belayed so that neither of them would get worn out. At last, the final recalibration was complete. Jeff, atop the last mast, activated his telecomm watch.

"International Rescue base to Thunderbird Five. Come in, Thunderbird Five."

John's tense face appeared in the tiny screen. His expression relaxed as he saw his father's face. "This is Thunderbird Five. We read you five by five. Father! Where are you? We were getting worried!"

"I'm on top of the world, son. The last frequency box has been recalibrated, and I'm heading back down to the ground." Jeff sat on the edge of the mast's platform and prepared to climb back down.

"You mean you were up on the masts today, Father?" John asked with feigned surprise.

"Yes, John. The old man has some life in him yet. Though not as much as I did before Virgil took me up the cliff to the promontory!" Jeff joshed. "Is the upgrade working well?"

"FAB, Father. Now that communications are back up, Scott, Tin-Tin, and I will be headed dirtside. We'll see you in a few hours," John said with a grin.

"Looking forward to it, son. International Rescue base, out." Jeff lowered himself over the edge and began his final trip to the ground.

Once there, he dusted off his hands and faced Virgil. "Now what? How do you suggest we get off this piece of rock?"

Virgil gave him a very big, mischievous grin. "Dad, now comes the fun part. Now we get to rappel!"

----------------------------------

Jeff finished his coffee in the lounge. Thunderbird Three was due back any minute and he was looking forward to seeing his third son after three weeks in space. He looked at his watch again. _Almost time._

He sat back in his desk chair and put his hands behind his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the bandage Virgil had applied to his scraped elbow. Under his trousers were bandages covering his equally abused knees. But he felt good. He had climbed that rock face without embarrassing himself and Virgil had been right about the rappelling back down, it had been fun!

_If the boys do this kind of thing all the time, no wonder why they are so eager to go out on rescue!_

His musings were interrupted by the radio. "Thunderbird Three to International Rescue base. Request permission to land," Scott's voice rang out over the airwaves.

Jeff flipped a switch. "Base to Thunderbird Three. Permission granted, and welcome home everyone.

---------------------------

It was after supper when Virgil finally got back down to his Thunderbird. He had visited with Brains for a while when he had showered and changed from the climb, then Grandma roped him into unloading the supplies from the helijet when she got home. Once the supplies were all put away, Kyrano called them to supper. After he had eaten, Virgil took a tray into the sick room for Brains, and again kept him company while the engineer ate.

But now it was time to get back to work. Climbing the promontory with his father had been grueling, tough and fun all at the same time. He had been impressed with his father's perseverance and stamina; it was going to be hard to get Jeff to change his mind if going out on rescues was what he planned on doing.

Virgil looked at the port wheel well and sighed. He loved his big, green Thunderbird, but sometimes maintenance could be a bear. He moved over to the forklift so he could bring the huge tire to the changing apparatus. But before he could start the forklift's engine, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his father, dressed in a work coverall, and behind him, his brothers, similarly togged out.

"Many hands make the work go faster," Jeff said with a grin. "Let's get this girl back in service, shall we?"

Virgil nodded and started up the forklift. _Looks like I'll be seeing my bed tonight after all, thanks to my family._

* * *

_Author's note:_ Okay, good readers. This is a WIP (work in progress) and the posting of chapters will probably slow down from here on out as I try to upgrade my 'puter and take care of the mundane chores of day-to-day living. Chapter 8 is begun, and I do promise that I WILL finish this fic (it's too much fun to leave alone!). Just be patient with the poor author, please. 


	9. Chapter 8 Hold That Tiger

Hey! I'm on a roll with the disclaimer! And here it is: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far. And a special thanks this chapter to Rain O'Cleary for making things "clear" to me! :)

* * *

**Chapter 8---Hold That Tiger**

"Scott, please pass the potatoes?"

"Sure, John. Here."

John accepted the bowl of mashed potatoes that Scott passed to him. He had been home for three days now and was still trying to think of what he could do with his father during the holidays. He absently scooped a large helping of the spuds onto his plate, then created a hole in the middle of the potatoes and poured gravy into it.

"A p-potato and gravy c-caldera," Brains remarked. John grinned at him.

"The only way to eat them as far as I'm concerned," he riposted. He was about to eat a bite and let the gravy flow all over his plate when the emergency signal rang through the house.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and put it down beside his plate, then followed his father and brothers to the lounge. He found a seat on his favorite sofa (the one that lowered and took him to Thunderbird Three) and watched as Alan's portrait segued into a real-time picture of the current space monitor, clipboard in hand.

"Thunderbird Five to International Rescue base, come in base."

Jeff slipped behind his desk and moved a switch before sitting down in his chair. "International Rescue base here. What have you got for us, Alan?"

"A submersible from the Hawaii Undersea Geo-Observatory was doing maintenance on its sensor equipment by the up-and-coming Hawaiian isle of Loihi when the volcano that is building the isle erupted. The eruption took out the propulsion system of the submersible so it's now stranded on the side of the seamount, about 900 meters under the surface. They will be running out of air in about 45 minutes and need us to get there, fast!"

"How far is the nearest Hawaiian Island to the seamount?" Jeff asked.

"The big island, Hawaii, is about 30 km from the summit," Alan informed him.

Jeff looked over at Brains. "Is the new Mobile Control unit functional?"

Brains nodded. "It's b-been tested, uh, thoroughly and sh-should be r-ready to go."

Jeff nodded in approval. "Okay, Scott, off you go. You can set up Mobile Control on the big Island. Alan, find some good coordinates for him, as close to the Danger Zone as possible."

"FAB," Alan replied as Scott took hold of the light sconces that would eventually deposit him in the cockpit of his beloved rocket plane.

"Virgil, Gordon, take pod four." Jeff commanded. He looked thoughtfully at John for a few moments. "Are you up to a rescue yet, John?"

John blinked at him owlishly, then his face broke out into a broad smile. "After three days of sunshine and Grandma's good cooking, I'm raring to go!"

"Then go with your brothers. I'm sure that Virgil can use an extra hand with the rescue capsule or in triaging for the sickbay" Jeff commented as he waved the blond Tracy away. John got up and scurried after Gordon.

Scott set up the new Mobile Control unit on the public beach outside the town of Naalehu, on the southernmost coast of the big island of Hawaii. The local officials had cleared the parking lot for Thunderbird One to use as a landing site, and they had cordoned off the parking lot and the beach, standing guard over rocket plane and its pilot as he worked to coordinate the rescue efforts.

The new Mobile Control was so easy to push out of Thundebird One's belly that Scott almost overcompensated and pushed too hard. _It's almost like setting this up on a beach at home, only cooler. And darker. It's almost hard to believe though that it's really winter here. But the sun is still shining back home while it's been dark for hours here._ He grabbed a jacket against the chill night air.

Setting up took no time at all, he just unlocked the cabinet and swung things around and out. Brains had supplied the unit with a long lasting, rechargeable battery for a power source so he didn't have to hook the control panel up to Thunderbird One to run it. He grinned as the computer screens came up ready to go. The vid screen remained dark, but he was sure he'd have that in use as the rescue continued as well. The whole console had light strips running around it, and he activated them against the darkness.

With a few keystrokes, he was ready. He radioed his brothers.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two. What is your ETA to the danger zone?" Scott asked.

"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control, ETA 5.5 minutes. We are pushing this lady to the limits, Scott." Scott looked out to see, trying to spot the big green machine. But it was too far out.

"FAB, Thunderbird Two. Drop that pod as soon as you arrive. There's no time to lose on this one."

"FAB, Mobile Control. How's the new unit working?" Virgil asked.

"So far, so good. We'll see how it performs as we put it through its paces. Mobile Control out." Scott pressed a touch sensitive screen and brought up the specifics of the submersible that they would be dealing with. He grinned again. He was going to enjoy shaking down the new piece of equipment.

Pod four hit the water with a tremendous splash. Inside his Thunderbird, Gordon quickly threw the switches that opened the pod and extended the rails. He was concentrating deeply on his work; the flight to Hawaii had left them little time in which to accomplish the rescue. John sat in the fold-down seat behind him. Gordon had asked Scott if John could double-crew with him.

"I have a bad feeling about this rescue, Scott. I may need an extra pair of eyes and hands," Gordon had said. Scott had agreed John could go; it was very, very seldom that the astronaut rode in Thunderbird Four or worked a water rescue.

"Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two and Mobile Control. Submerging now!" The clear, moonlit air around them was exchanged for dark water in a deluge of bubbles as the trim yellow craft quickly slipped under the swells. Gordon turned on the lights in the adjustable bar attached to his craft. The bright light penetrated the clear water for some distance and made it easier to see where they were going.

Schools of fish rushed out of his way as he sped deeper and deeper. Normally, such a display would evoke a smile or even a chuckle. But not this time. This time, lives were at stake and Gordon and his brothers were their only hope. The atmosphere in the pilot's cabin was tense.

"Thunderbird Four to Mobile Control. You have those coordinates for me, Scott?"

"Yes, Gordon. 562 by 88 magnetic." Scott's voice answered crisply.

"FAB, Mobile Control." Gordon replied automatically as he entered the coordinates into the onboard computer. Usually, he wouldn't use the auto guidance system, preferring to use his own skills to pilot his boat. But today, using the auto guidance system would free his mind to the puzzle of getting the oceanographers, seimologists, and vulcanologists out of their submersible and back to the surface.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbirds Two and Four. I have just had confirmed reports about the number of scientists involved. There are seven. The air is getting pretty stale down there, Gordon. I hope you can get them out in time."

"FAB, Mobile Control." Gordon answered._ I guess our best bet is to take four up at first, leaving air masks for the other three until we can get back down for them. I think we have enough equipment aboard; better check on it._ He turned to John.

"Would you check on the air tanks and masks for me, John? I need to know how many we have of each."

"FAB, Gordon." John rose from his seat and hurried back to the equipment locker. Opening the one for air tanks, he was pleased to see four tanks stored there. He checked the gauges on each one to see that they were full. Then he looked at the air mask cupboard. He frowned. "Four full tanks but only three air masks, Gords."

Gordon sighed. "That's right. The fourth tank is for the deep-sea suit. This isn't good. If either of us needs one during the rescue, that will leave only two for the scientists." He sat up straighter in his chair and squared his shoulders. "We'll just have to make sure we don't need one then."

John rummaged through the other lockers to see if a fourth mask was hiding somewhere. He came up empty. He reported this to Gordon, who grunted, then made his way back to the fold-down seat.

A warning beep sounded through the tiny cabin. Gordon turned back to the wide viewport to see the glow of the erupting seamount called Loihi coming up fast. He took back the controls and began to survey the area. Finding the submersible was relatively simple; there was a reason that yellow and orange were used at sea, and the little yellow craft was pretty easy to spot, perched precariously on a ledge and with a tail covered in cooling lava. He checked his readings on the water outside his Thunderbird, and grimaced.

_Not too bad here, but as I close in the temperature is rising. No way is there going to be any diving today, not even in the deep-sea suit._

He took stock of where the airlocks were on the small submersible. "Thunderbird Four to Thunderbirds Two and Mobile Control, I have visual. The lower hatch seems to be accessible, so I'll try to lock on to that. My plan is to bring up four, and leave airtanks and masks for the other three until we can get back down for them. I'm turning on the outer cameras so you can see the situation."

"FAB, Thunderbird Four. Sounds like a plan." Scott's voice came over the radio. "Proceed." Scott watched with interest as Thunderbird Four's external cameras came on and began sending signal to his video screen.

Gordon maneuvered Thunderbird Four so it was parallel with the stricken submersible, then eased her along slowly until she was under the hatch. The hatch was just clear of the rock ledge and the top of Thunderbird Four's cabin scraped along it, making Gordon wince. He realized that the rock ledge was going to keep him from getting close enough to the submersible.

Back at base, Jeff, who usually sat in his chair, tense but still, was up and pacing the lounge, muttering to himself. Tin-Tin, who was keeping him company, noticed the aberrant behavior and wondered what was going on in the IR commander's mind. The new Mobile Control unit allowed everyone in the lounge to listen in on all of the radio conversation, and knowing nearly everything that was going on seemed to make Jeff more nervous.

"Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two and Mobile Control. The lower hatch is a wash. The ledge is in the way of my making a tight lock, or any lock at all." Gordon's frustration at his inability to help was very evident in his voice.

"Thunderbird Four, what about the universal docking collar? Would that give you enough room to make the lock?" Scott asked, thinking hard for a solution to this problem.

"Thunderbird Four to Mobile Control, yes, it would. But it would mean a dive to connect it to the submersible. And the water..." Gordon explained, or tried to.

"How far down are you?" Scott interrupted, impatiently.

"876 meters down. But the water...."

"Mobile Control to base. Brains, how far down would the DSS work? Would it function at that depth?" Scott asked. Jeff turned to his engineer, who had entered the room a few minutes before and was sitting next to the desk.

"Yes, i-it sh-should. Scott. But wh-what I b-believe Gordon is t-trying to s-say is...."

Scott ignored everything after the word "yes". "Thunderbird Four. I am informed that the deep sea suit will function at that depth. Use it to make that dive and lock on to the submersible's hatch."

"FAB, Mobile Control," Gordon said dubiously. He was confused and concerned and wondered why his brother wanted him to take such a risk. He looked over at John for support. John nodded and then came over to the microphone.

"Scott," John began to explain, "You don't seem to understand what the situation is here. Gordon can't....."

Scott cut him off. "John, I know what Gordon's capabilities are. He has the right equipment and he can make this dive. Now do it!"

"Belay that order," came Jeff's voice, hard and stern. "Mobile Control, Thunderbird Four is in the vicinity of an underwater volcano. The water temperature is too hot for a dive of any kind to take place. We have to find a different solution."

At Mobile Control, Scott fumed as he looked at the schematics of the vessel in question. He didn't like his father second-guessing him, but he realized that his father was right. _How could I forget such a vital piece of information? My excitement at using this new gadget is getting in the way of effective leadership. Wake up, Scott!_

He looked again at the vid screen and got an idea. "Thunderbird Four. Is there any way of using the laser to cut away some of the rock ledge so the two hatches can meet?"

"FAB, Mobile Control. I think I can do that. It would be tricky; I don't want the submersible to fall off the ledge altogether. But I can cut enough for Four's hull to meet with theirs." Gordon said, a hint of relief in his voice at his brother's alternate suggestion.

"FAB, Thunderbird Four. Make it snappy, Gordon. Alan reports he's losing contact with the scientists."

Gordon said no more. He pressed the button that eased the laser barrel from the bow of his craft. It appeared from its housing smoothly and quickly. Gordon fired it up and began to cut away at the rock. The rock, newly formed, gave way quickly and soon there was an opening around the submersible's hatch big enough for Thunderbird Four's upper hull to fit into. John watched, impressed with his brother's focus and skill.

Gordon lost no time in getting under the little sub and joining the hatches. He and John moved the air tanks into the airlock and Gordon climbed the ladder to the round hatch, opening it inward. A small spray of seawater spilled in, but the other hatch was plainly in view. He reached up and opened it, carrying a bottle of air and a mask with him as he climbed up into the submersible. John stood by in the airlock with another mask and air bottle.

"You're right, Mobile Control, the air's pretty stale in here. Where are the scientists located?" Gordon paused at the top of the ladder.

"There is a group of them on the bridge and two of them in the sickbay alcove." Scott told him as he viewed the thermal imaging that Alan downloaded from Thunderbird 5.

"FAB, Mobile Control. I'll start at the sickbay. John, can you check the bridge?" He looked back at his brother.

"FAB, I'm right behind you."

Gordon found his way in the dim lighting to the sickbay alcove. There, on a fold out bed, lay a woman with an oxygen mask on her face. She looked over at him and pointed to a man on the floor under her bunk.

"He put this on me and then passed out," she said. Gordon checked the man's vitals, and immediately began CPR.

"How _puff, puff, puff_ long_ push, push, push_ has he _puff, puff, puff_ been like this?" _push, push, push_

"Only a minute or two, I think." the woman replied as Gordon continued the breathing and compressions of CPR. He worked in silence for a while, feeling his own head getting giddy with the bad air. He stopped to check the man's vitals again and was pleased to see him breathing again. He took a few breaths from the air tank to clear his head, then fastened the scuba mask over the victim. Then he looked at the woman.

"Why did he put you here?" he asked her as she began to sit up.

"They all sent me back here. They know I'm three months pregnant." the woman replied.

Gordon shook his head. In his mind, gravid women didn't belong this far under the ocean at any point during their pregnancy.

"Okay. I'm taking you and this man down to my Thunderbird and I'll take the two of you topside in the first trip." He pulled the man over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, picking up the air tank in one hand. The woman took the smaller oxygen bottle and prepared to follow him down the corridor. Gordon paused to activate his telecomm watch.

"How's it going on the bridge, John?"

John shook his head, trying to squeeze out words while performing CPR on an older man. "Not _puff, puff, puff_ good, Gords. _push, push, push_. I've _puff, puff, puff_ got two _push, push, push_ unconscious. One _puff, puff, puff_ stopped breathing _push, push, push_. Two _puff, puff, puff_ weak but awake _push, push, push_. I _puff, puff, puff_ could use a _push, push, push_ hand here. _puff, puff, puff_

Back at base, everyone could hear John's application of CPR to whoever had stopped breathing.

"How long has he been at it?" Jeff muttered as he walked around. "Can he keep it up in that bad air?" The voice on the radio switched back to Gordon's.

"I've got two to take down to TB4, John. I'll bring back tanks and masks for you as soon as possible." Gordon said as he urged the woman down the corridor. They reached the lower hatch, and Gordon put down his burden. He turned to the woman who accompanied him.

"I'll go down first and help you down. Once you're in my Thunderbird, you can take off your oxygen mask. I may need your help to bring him down into the airlock, okay?" The woman nodded, and Gordon gave her one of his electric grins. He disappeared down the hatch.

"Come on down, ma'am. Hand me that oxygen bottle first. I won't let you fall."

The woman maneuvered herself down the ladder carefully while Gordon held the oxygen tank. Then he swarmed up the ladder again, carrying one of the airtanks and the mask, leaving it in the corridor. He took his patient up over his shoulders in the fireman's carry again, and started down the ladder, using the edges of the hatch to balance himself and his burden for the first step or two, holding the air tank in one hand.

"Ma'am, please take the tank from me so I can finish bringing him down." The woman, now without oxygen mask and bottle, rushed over and took the air tank from him in two hands. This left Gordon's other hand free to grab the ladder and finish his descent. He sat the man up in a corner of the air lock, removed the air tank from his patient, and substituted the oxygen bottle and mask. Then he took the used air tank and mask with him as he disappeared into the other submersible again.

With an air tank and mask in each hand, he made his way to the bridge. He found John still doing CPR on the elderly man, swaying with every set of compressions he did.

"Here, John. Clear your head with fresh air. I'll take over." He handed a mask and airtank to his brother and watched the red face regain its normal, paler color as John's air-starved lungs recovered from his exertion. He picked up the breathing and compressions where John left off.

John took the air tank over to one of the unconscious men, fitting the mask over his face. The other unconscious one was beginning to stir, so John took his mask off and offered it to one of the scientists who was still awake but weak. He indicated that the two conscious men should share it for a while. He left the third one for use should they revive the elderly man.

"How _puff, puff, puff_ long have _push, push, push_ you been _puff, puff, puff_ doing this?" Gordon asked as John took over the chest compressions again.

John consulted his watch and grimaced. _push, push, push_ "Ten minutes."

Gordon sat back on his heels and looked at his older brother with sadness. "It's no good. We can't get this one back," he said. John nodded in solemn agreement.

John made sure that the three conscious scientists now had two masks and tanks to use between them. Together, the brothers removed the still unconscious scientist and took him to Thunderbird 4. The man who had been on the oxygen bottle was now conscious, so Gordon transferred the oxygen bottle to the new patient, and sent John back up to the bridge of the scientific vessel with the air tank. As John was climbing through the hatches, there was a loud CRACK and the joined vessels shifted position. The brothers exchanged glances, and Gordon headed for his cockpit just in time to see bits of ledge falling and bouncing off of Thunderbird 4's bow in the glow of the lighting bar.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Four, what is your status?" Scott could see the break up of the ledge in the external cameras.

"Thunderbird 4 to Mobile Control. We have three scientists aboard and three still in the submersible with John. One fatality. The ledge is beginning to break up and the submersible is beginning to shift. If the two vessels continue to be joined at the hatch, they will both fall to the seabed." Gordon reported, his expert eyes taking in the scene. "If I break the link, then the submersible will probably fall from the ledge and be crushed by the pressure further down."

"If I knew for sure that the submersible's stern was free of the hardened lava, I'd pull it off the ledge and blow ballast on both boats, bringing us up together. But my cameras are blocked by what's left of the ledge," he added.

Jeff listened as Gordon dispassionately reported the fatality and groaned. _Was it the scientist John labored over with the CPR? I'll have to make sure John knows that he did all he could to save that person's life. He shouldn't have that life on his conscience._ He turned to face the wall of portraits as John spoke again.

"Gordon. I think I can help there," John's voice came over Gordon's telecomm. "The scientists say I can turn their cameras around for a 360 degreeview. Point the lighting bar upwards to give us some light. I'm activating their top camera now. Patching the signal to you, Gordon."

Gordon watched in his viewscreen as the camera atop the submersible rotated slowly to point at the stern of the craft. Both craft shook as the ledge continued to disintegrate and the submersible seemed to slide off the ledge.

"Zooming in, Gordon," John reported, his voice calm. _That's the voice people hear when they call Thunderbird Five,_ Gordon thought, smiling with pride in his older brother. _Calm, cool, and soothing._

"Yes!" Gordon shouted suddenly. The picture from the camera showed the propulsion end of the submersible quite clearly now, virtually free of the substance that had entrapped it.

"John, close the hatch on your side just in case we lose the lock, okay?" Gordon rose from his seat to do the same for Thunderbird 4. He reassured the three scientists that they were going to get out of there as he climbed the ladder to close Thunderbird Four's inner hatch. He caught a glimpse of John's blond head grinning at him as the submersible's bottom door was sealed as well.

Gordon jumped down from the ladder and returned to the cockpit

"Okay, John. I'm going to turn Thunderbird Four slowly to my starboard, your port. There's bound to be some scraping....." Gordon's instructions were lost as a violent shift in the submersible's balance caused both craft to fall from the last bit of crumbling ledge. Passengers were thrown to one side of Thunderbird 4's airlock while the scientists in the bridge of the submersible were shaken as well.

John had strapped himself into the pilot's chair on the submersible and was trying to restart the fouled propulsion systems. He cursed under his breath as they failed once and again to come online.

"Gordon? Gords? I can't get the propulsion online here. What do I do? Gordo?" John's calm voice now held a hint of panic at his brother's silence.

Tin-Tin was alarmed to see color drain from Jeff's face as John lost communication with his brother. She scurried out to the kitchen to bring in some coffee.

"Damn this new system! It tells so much and yet so little! What has happened to Gordon? Come on, John! Find your brother!" Jeff urged aloud to the air, heedless of Brains watching him intently.

Gordon had been standing in front of his pilot's chair to better see the disintegration of the ledge, and was thrown to the side of his cockpit. He hit his head on the bulkhead, and the world greyed for a second. Then he shook his copper-topped noggin with a groan and half-crawled back to his seat, strapping himself in.

"I'm here, John. Don't worry about propulsion. Just get ready to blow ballast on my mark." Gordon finally replied, causing John to sigh with relief.

Jeff sighed with relief, too. He sat down heavily behind his desk, the color in his face slowly coming back to normal. Tin-Tin offered him the hot stimulant, and he took it with a small smile.

"Thanks, Tin-Tin."

"You're welcome, Mr. Tracy," she replied as she resumed her seat. Jeff sipped the coffee, then took the mug with him as he left his seat again to lean against the front of his desk.

"I'm ready," John told his Gordon, having figured out exactly which controls would empty the ballast tanks.

"FAB, John. Three... two.... one... mark!"

Simultaneously, the brothers pounced on their respective control panels. The sea around them roiled as the water that held the boats under the sea was quickly and violently forced out of the submersible's ballast tanks and the rear nacelles of Thunderbird Four. With the weight of the water gone and replaced by buoyant air, and still joined together at the hatches, the two boats began a slow ascent to the surface.

In the massive, hovering, Thunderbird Two, Virgil sat waiting and watching. This was one rescue where he had little or nothing to do but stand by while his aquanaut and astronaut brothers did the lion's share of the work. He followed the talkback from Thunderbird Four and Mobile Control, between the brothers below the sea, and between Mobile Control and base. Now all was quiet.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two. Status, please." Scott asked from his spot on the beach. _Funny how even being in the winter air didn't keep one from sweating out the rescue._

"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control. Standing by roughly above the position where they should be coming up. No sign of them yet, Scott." Virgil replied.

"Let me know the minute you have any sign of them. Prepare the grabs in case we need to take the submersible up." Scott instructed.

"FAB, Mobile Control," Virgil acknowledged as he put his ship on autopilot and headed to the lower level of Thunderbird Two just beneath his cockpit. Once there, he set up the large grabs, making ready for lifting the small submarine. As he thought about the possibilities, he put the rescue capsule on standby so he could easily change over to it if the submersible proved to be too much for the grabs. He knew that his green baby could do the job of lifting; it would be the grabs that would prove to be the weak link.

Jeff had shifted his position against the desk several times in the quiet minutes since Gordon had counted down to his mark. Now he abandoned the desk again, and paced the floor once more. Brains and Tin-Tin both watched the Tracy patriarch try to expend his nervous energy in movement.

_Perhaps this new innovation was a poor choice,_ Brains thought. _Especially considering the impact it is having on Mr. Tracy right now. I will have to discuss this with Scott._

His preparations made, Virgil hurried back up to his chair to see if his two brothers had come up yet. He watched out the viewport, and the monitors that were fed by the cameras on either side of Thunderbird Two's belly. Lights from the observation ports tracked along with the camera lenses as they panned the dark ocean surface. He glanced at one screen, then looked back again as area of yellow appeared in the black seas below him. A welling up of water, and the topside of the submersible came into view. Virgil keyed in a sequence of commands and the video feed was sent on to Mobile Control as well.

"There they are, Mobile Control!" said Virgil, a mixture of relief and joy in his tone. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird 4. You are a sight for sore eyes!"

"What do you mean, Thunderbird Two? You can't even see me! I'm under that hulk of a submersible!" Gordon complained good-naturedly. "Now, how do we want to handle the transfer of patients and personnel? Ideas? Virgil, John?"

"Hey, don't forget me," Scott bantered from shore. It had been difficult to wait for Virgil's call that they had surfaced. He had entertained visions of the ballast release being too little, too late and of both craft falling from the seamount to the ocean floor, the submersible crushed by the water pressure and Thunderbird Four crushed by the submersible.

"Forget you, Mobile Control? Never!" John joked back. "So, any ideas on how to get us out of this tin can? Or do we stay here and get picked up and flown to shore?"

Virgil studied the specifications of the submersible again and let out a whistle. "This baby is bigger than I expected. I suggest we use the rescue capsule to pull the scientists out and into Thunderbird Two. The observatory can send out their salvage boat to tow the submersible in."

"FAB, Thunderbird Two." John said. "I can get these three out the top hatch and then come up with the body in a second trip."

"And I can bring my group through the pod entrance once I've put Thunderbird Four back inside," agreed Gordon.

And that is what they did. Virgil sent down the rescue capsule and took John and his charges from the submersible while Gordon broke the link between the two craft and took his group with him as he put his own Bird to bed in her pod. Then, as Virgil picked up the pod, Scott radioed. He had broken his new Mobile Control console down and stored it within his vessel in record time.

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One. The hospital at Hilo is waiting for your rescuees. I'm ready to go and I'll see you three back at base." Scott informed them as he took his place in the cockpit of Thunderbird One.

"FAB, Thunderbird One. Thanks for giving the hospital the heads up. See you back at base." Virgil replied.

"Don't eat all the dessert, Scott!" John warned. "I expect at least one piece of Grandma's apple pie when I get home!"

Scott laughed. "First come, first served, Johnny boy. You'll be lucky to get that one piece!"

Jeff's voice intervened, "So will you, Scott. We're done with dessert here."

Jeff looked over at Tin-Tin and winked. Now that the rescue was done, he was calmer and able to sit in one spot long enough to eat some pie and drink his coffee.

"Thunderbird One to International Rescue base. Leaving rescue zone. ETA to base, 15 minutes."

"FAB, Thunderbird One. See you in a few."

Jeff got up from the desk and took his coffee out onto the balcony. The sun had just set and the moon was climbing in the sky. He closed his eyes and just savored the tropical breeze that washed over him.

This had been a difficult rescue for him, especially after his scuba diving scare. He wasn't one to second-guess Scott's command decisions, but he really didn't want to risk Gordon going through what he had when the dark waters isolated him from human touch and sound. Besides, with that seamount erupting nearby, the water probably was too hot for a dive. That's what Brains had been about to say.

He had been so...._ itchy_... to be out there, gliding beneath the waves with Gordon, lending his hands to help John with the CPR, feeling that rush of adrenaline when the submersible began to fall from the ledge. Listening to it all, pacing the room, he felt like a caged tiger.

_Am I crazy to want to do this? To participate in the race against death, against time? To face the danger of the rescue? To feel the heartache when we lose someone we've rushed out to save?_

He took a deep swallow of his coffee and made his decision.

_The next rescue. I go out on the next rescue._


	10. Chapter 9 Let's Call The Whole Thing Off

Hey! Here's that pesky little disclaimer: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far, especially on this chapter! :-)

* * *

**Chapter 9--Let's Call The Whole Thing Off**

"Scott?"

"Yes, Tin-Tin?"

"Please hand me that end of the garland?"

Scott stooped down to pick up the red and gold garland with the fiber optic lights hidden in its depths and handed it up to Tin-Tin. She was perched on a ladder, well within reach of the top of the artificial spruce tree that the Tracys had put up for Christmas for as long as International Rescue had been running. She draped it over the branches near the top of the 12 foot tree and motioned for Scott to take the rest around to John, who was perched atop another ladder on the other side.

Scott handed the garland up to him, then went around the ladder and waited for John to place the garland as far around the upper branches as he could reach. Then Scott took the excess again and passed it along to Tin-Tin once more. He knew he would be slowly circling the tree for awhile yet, until the long strands of garland had completely encircled the tree from top to bottom. Then the fun of hanging the ornaments would begin.

It was two days before Christmas and preparations for the holiday were in full-swing. Virgil was playing Christmas carols and other holiday oriented music on the piano to the exclusion of all else. Gordon had been conscripted to help in the kitchen under the watchful eyes of both Grandma and Kyrano. After all, no one wanted a repeat of two years ago when Gordon had ruined all the apple pies by substituting salt for sugar. Grandma still hadn't forgiven him for that stunt, and Scott was surprised that she was even letting Gordon anywhere near the kitchen again. Then again, Scott had been enlisted last year and had quickly been shooed out when his near total ineptitude with things culinary had been revealed.

Out of all of the Tracy sons, only Alan and John showed any promise at the stove and oven, though Gordon had the ability to cook if he could restrain the prankster in him. Scott supposed that the blond brothers' aptitude was a result of having to fend for themselves on the space station. On the rare occasions that he had been obliged to substitute for one of them, he would have starved if not for the breakfast cereal and microwavable soups in the galley's cupboards.

_This one area in which I wish I were more like Dad,_ Scott thought. _He knows his way around a kitchen. He had to learn, for our sakes._

At that moment, Jeff and Virgil came up from the storage areas with the boxes of ornaments. Brains followed, looking hot and tired.

"B-braman is loaded in, uh, Thunderbird Three," Brains announced. "H-he's ready for d-duty on Th-thunderbird Five." The scientist plopped down on the green couch in front of Jeff's desk.

Jeff put down the storage tote he was carrying and flipped a switch on his desk. "International Rescue base to Thunderbird Five. You there, Alan?"

"Thunderbird Five to base. I'm here, Father. And raring to get back dirtside!" Alan's smiling, eager face replaced his portrait.

"Are you ready to bring Alan home, John?" Jeff asked. John looked over and gave Jeff a pained look.

"Do I have to, Dad?" he whined unconvincingly, his face barely holding back an impish grin.

Jeff rolled his eyes and shook his head just a bit. Then his face took on a speculative look.

"If you don't want to go, I will."

The lounge was suddenly silent. Scott looked to Virgil, Virgil looked to John, John looked to Tin-Tin, Tin-Tin looked to Brains, and Brains looked back at Scott. Then they all looked over at Jeff.

His speculative look became one of annoyance as he watched the younger people.

"What?" he asked, sounding peeved. "I can fly Thunderbird Three. I've spent plenty of time in the simulator reacquainting myself with her systems. It's not an emergency, just a quick run to Thunderbird Five and back. Surely the old man can handle that?" His tone turned from peeved to jocular with the last statement.

"Sure, Dad, why not?" Scott said, causing the others to look at him in varying degrees of puzzlement and disbelief. "You're perfectly qualified to pilot Thunderbird Three. What do you think, John?"

Put on the spot, John hemmed and hawed. "I suppose so, Scott." He turned to Jeff, "I'm surprised by your offer, Dad. I was only teasing about going up to get Alan."

"I know, John. But I'm serious. It's been a long time since I've flown into space. I'd like to go again and this is the perfect opportunity." Jeff smiled widely at the thought. He turned to his engineer. "Brains, would you feel comfortable with me at the controls? Tell me truthfully; you won't offend me."

_What do I say to that question?_ Brains thought bleakly.

"I-I w-would b-be o-okay, uh, w-with y-your p-piloting, M-Mr. T-Tracy." Brains stammered. _Damn this stutter! Makes it sound like I'm more nervous at the thought of him piloting. And I don't want him to think that!_

Jeff gave him an amused look. "Then it's settled. Alan, you can expect Brains and me at about 1500 hours," Jeff said, turning to Alan, who had heard the entire conversation.

"Uh, FAB, Dad. 1500 hours." Alan said, slightly stunned.

Jeff sat next to Brains on the couch, putting one ankle on the opposite knee and his hands behind his head, grinning. He looked over at Scott.

"Scott, would you do the honors?"

Scott started. "Oh, of course, Dad." He made his way behind the desk and pressed the button that lowered the couch into the floor.

There was silence in the lounge until the empty replacement couch came up. Then the people in the lounge exploded with questions.

"What was that all about, Scott?" "Why did you let him go?" "You're encouraging him?" "Do you know what you're doing, Scott?"

Scott held up his hands. "Pipe down everyone! I have my reasons for doing what I did."

"They had better be good ones, big brother," Alan said, glowering from his live feed picture. "That's my Thunderbird he's piloting!"

"Think about it, everyone. There's really no reason for Dad not to go up and pick up Alan. He's right about being qualified to do it." Scott said, trying to convince his brothers and Tin-Tin of his good intentions. "Actually, he's more than qualified. And it might give him enough excitement to satisfy his longing to go out on rescues."

The lounge was silent again.

"You have a point, Scott," John finally admitted. "This probably is the safest way to deal with that itch of his."

Virgil chimed in, "Yeah. Our Operation: Change of Mind isn't working very well. He's taken every challenge we've given him and he's kept up with us. Hell, he has even seemed to enjoy himself!"

"Maybe we should just drop it," Alan said.

This time, Scott was the one with the protests. "What do you mean, Alan? Let him go out on a rescue? That's nuts!"

Gordon came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

"What's nuts?" he asked, looking around at the tableau. "Where's Dad?"

"On his way to Thunderbird Five," John hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the Round House.

"Thunderbird Five? How'd that happen?" asked Gordon, surprised.

"He decided he'd go when John was teasing about not wanting to go," Tin-Tin explained.

"Yeah, and Scott encouraged him!" Alan added.

"And Alan thinks we should drop Operation: Change of Mind," Virgil informed him.

"Hmm." Gordon replied, looking thoughtful. "It's not a bad idea."

"What do you mean, Gordon?" Tin-Tin asked.

"Well, why are we trying to change his mind? What are our reasons for not letting him go out on a rescue?" Gordon asked, looking around at everyone. "We've all assumed that just because he's getting older, he'd be no good on a rescue. But he's been showing us that age hasn't slowed him down at all. Or at least not much."

The radio crackled into life, interrupting Gordon's speech.

"Thunderbird Three requesting permission for launch," Jeff's basso voice came through.

Scott took a deep breath and threw a switch on the communications panel. "Permission granted, Thunderbird Three. Good luck, Dad."

"Thanks, Scott. Commencing countdown, T minus ten seconds. See you all in about four hours. Thunderbird Three out."

Everyone headed for the balcony to watch the launch. Virgil stood beside Scott to watch Thunderbird Three emerge with smoke and flame from the center of the Round House. Scott often wondered if his own Thunderbird looked that majestic as it rose from its launch pad. The few times it had been necessary for one of his other brothers to pilot his rocket plane, he had either been unconscious in the sick room or away from the Island altogether. Except when he took the desk in his father's absence. Then, he was too nervous about the responsibility handed to him to think about watching the launch.

"Well, there he goes," Virgil remarked. "Let's hope this stops him from wanting to go out on rescue."

Inside, Scott wholeheartedly agreed.

------------------------------

Jeff and Brains didn't speak as the couch was deposited on the conveyer car and moved quickly to Thunderbird Three's launch pad. Brains really was at a loss for words, and Jeff's thoughts were elsewhere.

_Has this become routine for them, the monthly flight to and from Thunderbird Five? Or do they still get excited as they leave Earth's warm embrace to travel among the stars?_ He closed his eyes to savor a memory. _I still remember the thrill I got when the stars stopped twinkling and became sharp points of light all around me, billions of points of light, so very many more than I could ever see from Earth. And the moon! Luna, you beautiful goddess of the night! To walk on your surface excited me and humbled me all at once. Walking where giants had walked before me._ He clenched a fist._ To feel that again, that surge of excitement...._ He smiled as his reverie carried him to the moon and beyond.

Before he knew it, he was in Thunderbird Three's lounge. He looked over at his passenger.

"Well, Brains. Want to come up to the control room for the flight? You can look over my shoulder and make sure I don't crash into anything," he quipped.

Brains smiled a slightly strained smile. "I-I'll keep you c-company, M-Mr. Tracy. B-But, truthfully, I have every, uh, c-confidence in y-your piloting sk-skills."

They entered the turbolift to take them to the control room of the rocket. Jeff looked around at the room and grinned. He looked in the uniform storage unit and laughed.

"I guess if I'm going to do this with any regularity, I'd better put one of my own uniforms in there. I doubt I'd fit into Alan's or even Scott's!" he remarked with a chuckle. "I guess I can go in civvies today. It's not like anyone is going to see me outside of the family."

Brains filed the comment away in his memory for future discussions about Operation: Change of Mind. It was the first verbal indication he had heard supporting the plans that the Tracy sons were sure their father was contemplating.

Jeff took his place in the pilot's seat and looked over the controls carefully. _They look just the same as in the simulator, yet different. Maybe it's the lighting. Or maybe it's because they are real and not simulated._

He began to go through the pre-launch checklist. "Chemical rockets on standby. Fuel levels at 100 percent. Fuel lines open and fuel pumps working at full capacity. Navigation computers engaged. Life support at full power. Artificial gravity at Earth normal."

He turned to Brains, who sat in one of the passenger seats behind him. "Looks like this Thunderbird is go." He opened communications with the lounge. "Thunderbird Three requesting permission for launch."

Scott's baritone answered the request. "Permission granted, Thunderbird Three. Good luck, Dad."

"Thanks, Scott. Commencing countdown, T minus ten seconds. See you all in about five hours. Thunderbird Three out." He closed communications and watched the countdown clock. "Opening launch bay door... engaging chemical rockets... three... two... one... liftoff!"

The hatch beneath the Round House irised open as the red rocket began to move upward, fighting the pull of gravity with its mighty chemical engines. Slowly at first, as engine exhaust was directed out through the blast ducts, then faster and faster, the engines began to win the fight against the forces of Mother Earth, the spaceship accelerating to an eventual speed that would take it out of the atmosphere and into space.

Jeff watched the Island dwindle to a speck in the video on the plasma screen before him. His blood sang and his heart raced at feeling the almost forgotten g-forces that pushed him back into his seat. He was excited, elated, and supremely happy. His grin threatened to split his face, and with reluctance he stifled the urge to let out a loud, "Wahoo!" _What would Brains think of that?_ he thought with amusement.

Brains couldn't see the emotions that passed across the face of Jeff Tracy, but he could guess at them. _Why haven't we done this sooner? He's probably ecstatic to be space bound again._

"Escape velocity in 25 minutes. Flight time to Thunderbird Five, 1 hour 25 minutes." Jeff said aloud. He swiveled his pilot's chair to grin at Brains. "Come over here and take the co-pilot's seat so we can talk, Brains. It's not often that we have uninterrupted time like this."

Brains unbuckled himself and made his way over to the co-pilot's seat, then strapped himself in again. He looked over at his employer, who had his eye on the plasma screen before him, watching the continents shrink as they gained altitude.

_I wonder what he wants to talk about?_

-----------------------------------

"Now, what were we talking about?" Virgil asked when they returned to the lounge.

"Hey! Did Thunderbird Three get off okay? How did Dad do with liftoff?" Alan demanded, his agitation at being in Thunderbird Five and everyone in the lounge deserting him to watch the launch very evident.

"Oh, sorry, Alan. Yes, Thunderbird Three launched textbook perfect. Dad certainly hasn't lost his touch with spacecraft," John said. "The hours he's spent in the simulator have paid off for him today."

"I hope he gets here in one piece!" Alan remonstrated.

Scott glared at him. "He will, Alan. Just keep your shirt on and simmer down," he retorted. He turned to Gordon, who had plunked himself in a chair, draping a leg over the arm of it. "Now, back to what you were saying, Gordon."

"What?" Gordon sat up momentarily, then relaxed again as he remembered his subject. "Oh, yeah. Well, I was saying that Alan might have a good idea in calling off Operation: Change of Mind. I mean, why are we trying to stop Dad from going out on rescues? Do we have any other reasons besides he's getting older and wants to feel young again?"

"Hmm." It was Tin-Tin's turn to look thoughtful. "If you are looking for actual reasons, I may have one. Secrecy. Your father is a very high-profile man. He has been the subject of many articles and vid profiles, and therefore is highly recognizable. If he were to be seen in an International Rescue uniform during an emergency, security would be compromised."

"That's a good reason. Though the same could be said for some of us as well. Alan's racing career has made his face visible, as have Gordon's gold medal, and John's books. Scott and I are the unknown heroes of this bunch," Virgil quipped.

"Still, Virg, he's much more the public figure than any of us are," Gordon argued. He looked around at the others in the lounge. "What else have we got?"

"I don't know about the rest of you, but if he were working with me on a rescue, I'd be watching out for him more than for anyone else," Alan stated. "He doesn't have the experience and that would make me nervous." There were murmurs of agreement all around.

"Plus, he's.... Dad." John added. "We'd want to look out for him. After all, none of us wants to...." John stopped and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"None of us wants to... what, John?" Scott prodded.

For a long moment, John said nothing. Then he swallowed visibly, and said in a quiet voice, "None of us wants to lose him. To lose another parent."

There was silence again in the lounge. Then Scott took a deep breath and spoke.

"That's always a possibility. It's a possibility for any of us when we go out on rescues. We've had so many close scrapes, so many brushes with death...." He shook his head. "I understand where you're coming from, John. To lose one of you in the line of duty would hurt, and hurt a lot, but to lose Dad... that would be a whole different sort of pain."

Scott walked around as he continued. "Dad is our anchor. He's our anchor here on Earth as much as Alan and John are our anchors in Thunderbird Five. He's been our anchor ever since Mom died. To lose him, I think, could cut us adrift."

"There's more than that, Scott," Virgil said. He looked around the room, meeting each person's gaze. "International Rescue is his dream. We've all signed on to it, we all believe in it, but it is uniquely his. Could we continue to run it as he would want it run without him? Or would we each try to remake it with our own vision of what IR should be?"

"These are good questions to ask." Everyone turned to see Kyrano enter the lounge. "I have heard much of what you have discussed." He sat down on the couch next to Tin-Tin. "You are dealing with your father's mortality, which is foresighted of you. He will not be here forever. To think about these things while he is alive, and to discuss them with him may be what will deter him from going out on rescues."

"I don't know, Kyrano," Gordon said, his face creased with doubt. "Most men his age, when they are trying to recapture part of their youth, don't listen to their families. They go out and do what they want despite the feelings of their children or wives." He looked down for a moment. "Or, at least, that's what I've been told."

"Do you think Dad would be stubborn enough to stay this course even if we brought our concerns to him?" Alan asked.

Silence reigned again. Then heads began to nod, and a chorus of "yes" went around the room.

"Kyrano, I don't know if you went through something like this," Scott turned to the retainer. "Nor do I know what you did about it if you went through it. But you have always appeared, at least to me, to be a reasonable man. Someone who listens and thoughtfully considers what is said and acts upon it. But you know as well as we do that our Dad is stubborn. There are times when you can talk to him until you're blue in the face, but in the end, he's going to do what he wants. That's why we've been trying to get him to change his own mind about this." Scott blew out some air. "But it doesn't seem to be working."

Kyrano's face flushed a bit. "I did go through something like what your father seems to be experiencing now. But I was prevented from doing anything rash. Had I not been so prevented, I admit I would have carried out the plans I had made at the time despite the wishes of my family." He looked Scott full in the face. "Perhaps allowing your father to go on a rescue should be incorporated into Operation: Change of Mind. Most probably there will be a rescue before you can think up or plan more situations like the scuba diving or the rock climbing to test your father. The actual experience may be what is needed to change his mind."

"No. Absolutely not. It's just too dangerous, for us and for him," Scott said, his own stubbornness coming to the front.

"And if he insists on going? What then?" Kyrano challenged.

Scott blanched. That was what he feared most; his father insisting that he go on a rescue. _There's no way in heaven or earth that I could stop him. It would be like withstanding the "irresistible force". No way am I the "immovable object"._

He sighed. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it." He looked around the room. "So, do we keep Operation: Change of Mind going or not? Let's have a vote."

"I think we should wait for Brains to vote on this," Tin-Tin suggested. She looked over at her father._ I wonder what his "midlife crisis" was all about? I don't remember anything of it. I will have to ask him._

"I also think we should wait and see what he's like after piloting Thunderbird Three," John added. "If doing that will fulfill his need, we can let him continue. If not, then we vote."

"Agreed," said Virgil. Gordon nodded at Scott.

"What do you think, Alan?" Scott asked.

"I think that I'll let Dad pilot us back so I can bring Brains up to speed on this," Alan remarked. "I agree with John's and Tin-Tin's suggestion about postponing any decision until we're dirtside again."

"All right," Scott said, a disappointed tone to his voice. "We table the issue until we see Dad's response to his trip in Thunderbird Three." I just hope we don't have a rescue for a couple more days yet. And please, please, no rescue on Christmas!

Jeff was amused at Brains. They had spoken a little about the goings-on at the Villa, then Jeff asked Brains what new ideas he had for the Thunderbirds and for the auxiliary machinery. This opened the floodgates, and Brains began to talk. And talk. And talk. And as he talked, his stutter disappeared. Jeff tried hard to keep up with his head engineer's ideas, making mental notes on some of the more interesting proposals, and asking intelligent (he hoped) questions from time to time. But he now wished he had a recording device of some sort. Brains had so many ideas that it was hard to keep track of them.

"And I've been working on the theories behind instant teleportation. It would be great if our operatives could teleport to wherever the rescue was and be there on the scene almost instantly. But to do it would require much better computer and communications equipment than we have right now and, of course, better sensors. The software itself would be a massive undertaking. Then there's the issue of trying to transport the equipment the same way. The energy to mass ratio would be enormous. But still, I predict it will be a reality!" Brains paused for breath. "Just probably not in my lifetime."

A beeping noise caught Jeff's attention.

"Ah! It's the 10 minute warning indicator." Jeff toggled a switch. "Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird Three. Come in, Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Three from Thunderbird Five, go ahead. I read you five by five," Alan's voice filled the cockpit.

"We are 8 minutes from docking, Thunderbird Five. You ready for us, Alan?" Jeff asked, smiling.

"FAB, Dad. Ready and raring to leave this tin can." Alan answered with relief in his voice.

"FAB, son. Beginning preparations for docking." Jeff put his full attention on the control panel in front of him. Brains watched with interest as Jeff threw switches and turned dials, muttering under his breath as he did so. "Flywheel drive engaged. Docking sensors on. Firing main attitude control rockets." There was no sense within the cockpit that the ship was changing its orientation from vertical to horizontal, but the instruments in front of him told Jeff that it was.

"Disengaging attitude control rockets." The docking sensor display showed the pilot that they were coming up on the docking ring to Thunderbird Five, but coming up a little bit fast.

"Firing retro rockets, short burst." The sensors showed the slowing of the ship. Jeff unconsciously held his breath as the nose of Thunderbird Three slipped silently and smoothly into the docking tube, buried up to the white ring. _Just like a man with a woman._ That earthy image came to Jeff's mind as the docking was completed, and he let his breath out in a chuckle, then looked over at Brains. _He designed these craft. Was he thinking what I just thought when he was creating this system? Dare I ask?_

"Docking complete, Thunderbird Three. Nice job, Dad!" Alan's congratulations sounded out over the speakers.

"Thanks, Alan." Jeff responded, as he removed his safety straps and stood up. "Come on, Brains. Let's get your tin man set up and ready to go. That sounds like one anxious young man over there."

A half-hour later, Jeff was back in the pilot's seat, this time alone. Alan had dragged Brains off into the bowels of the ship to bend the engineer's ear about something or other. _Checking up on Tin-Tin most likely,_ Jeff mused. He fired the retro rockets in short bursts, backing slowly away from the docking collar. The image from docking resurfaced, and he shook his head. _I will never be able to call Thunderbird Three "she" again! Not after this trip!_

While Brains and Alan were working on Braman, getting him out of his traveling case and putting his new software through its paces, Jeff had taken a look around the station. It had been a long time since he had visited it, almost since it had been built. He peered into each room, making mental notes of things that should be changed or upgraded. The workout equipment looked a little shabby to him, a testimony of his sons' usage of it. He remembered with a start that the station had been built with more than one person in mind. _There are six bedrooms up here! And a generous medical bay and galley. So much room. We just aren't using Thunderbird Five to its fullest potential. But to do so would mean hiring other operatives and taking IR out of the family. I don't know that I'm ready to do that._

Jeff used the attitude control rockets to point the red rocket back towards Mother Earth, then fired the chemical rockets again. Slowly the station became smaller and smaller as the spaceship pulled away from it, leaving empty of human occupation._ I hope Braman is up to the task. Last thing we need is for him to malfunction during an emergency._

He plotted a course back to the Island and put it into the guidance computers, then sat back.

_This has been an eye-opening trip in more ways than one. I've proven to myself that I can handle Thunderbird Three. And I've gotten back into space, which has exhilarated me more than I expected it to. I've gained a new appreciation for Brains' intellect; he really thinks all the time and has so many exciting ideas. Looking over Thunderbird Five has shown me how long-sighted he was in its design. Eventually we will need more operatives to run the station and he prepared for that ahead of time._

He shifted in the pilot's seat. _But now I've got to think of the future. I can't expect my sons to live the celibate life I've led since Lucille's death; they'll be bringing home lovers and wives some day. I'm sure a number of those women will become members of International Rescue and will take some of the burden of rescues from them. But that's not enough. I'll eventually have to recruit people from outside the family to help. And not just in the area of the rescues themselves, but in the background as well. Tin-Tin and Brains are just two people; I can't expect them to think of everything we'll need or design and build all the equipment we will require._

_Planning for the future. For the day when I'm no longer around. Or no longer able to direct operations. When I hand the reins over to Scott. Or maybe Virgil. Or even John. It depends on who takes on my vision as their own. For all of them to be in charge could mean that International Rescue would be torn apart. No, I'll have to choose which one is most likely to keep my vision alive and intact. Then I'll have to groom one or perhaps all of the others to take over Tracy Industries and leave the one free to direct International Rescue._

He sighed. _Now is the time to start this grooming process. I've done little enough so far; just a short week or two during the year when I was swamped at home or sick. After the holidays, I'll start sending one of the boys out to corporate for a stint each month. And I'll rotate whoever is left at home at the desk. Since I'll be participating in rescues, we shouldn't be too shorthanded. Except when Gordon isn't there. Maybe it's time to train one of the others on Thunderbird 4 so we'll have some flexibility. Though I seemed to do pretty well with her when I was in the simulator. We'll see._

With the autoguidance system in place, Jeff stood up to stretch. "I could use a cup of coffee," he said aloud. He spoke into his wrist telecomm. "Alan? I need a stretch and some coffee. You want to take him for a while?"

"Uh, sure, Dad." Alan responded from the lounge, where he had told Brains everything he and the others had discussed. "I'll be right up."

He looked over at Brains. "Now you're up to speed. Scott will probably want to talk about it some more when you get back. And then vote whether or not we continue."

Brains nodded. "I-I have a s-small item t-to, uh, bring to e-everyone myself. A l-little hint y-your father unknowingly g-gave me about his p- plans."

"Oh, brother! That will stir things up even more, I'm sure," Alan remarked as he headed for the lift. "I'll talk with you later." As he entered the lift, his father's request rang again in his head and a puzzled look passed over his face. _Him? Dad is calling Thunderbird Three a "him"? Wonder why?_

_--------------------------------------_

Jeff breathed in deeply and let it out. His palms were sweaty. Now was the moment he was dreading. They were coming in for a landing.

_I crashed him three times while in the simulator; twice into the Round House and once within the silo itself. I only got it right and perfect twice. Let's hope I can do it again, this time with the real thing._

"Engaging pitch and yaw rockets for 180 degree turn." One half of the small rockets that ringed the nose of the craft fired, while on the opposite side of the ship, half of the equally small rockets that ringed the base fired. This time there was a sense of motion as the tall spaceship went from nose down to nose up while still hurtling downwards towards the Island.

"Disengaging pitch and yaw rockets. Tractor beam guidance sensor enabled. Main engines firing. He's slowing down. Opening launch bay door." Below the red rocket, the silo hatch opened, welcoming the ship back to its home. Jeff listened to the proximity beeping and watched the image that the sensor put up on the screen before him. Behind him, Brains held his breath. Beside him, Alan held on tightly to the arms of his seat, fighting the incredible urge to transfer control of the vessel to his position so he could complete the landing.

Jeff fired the main engines in short bursts, braking the downward speed of the space-going Thunderbird little by little. Then, just before slipping through the donut hole of the Round House, he fired them in a sustained burst that slowed the ship enough to bring it gently down on top of the three cuplike structures that were the business ends of the blast ducts.

Jeff slumped forward over the controls for a second with a sudden release of tensed muscles, closing his eyes in relief. Brains let out his held breath. Alan's hands relaxed and he clapped his father on the shoulder.

"Great landing, Dad!" he exclaimed, grinning. Jeff straightened up, opened his eyes, and grinned back.

"I'll need more practice, lots more practice, before I ever get comfortable with landing him," he said. He rose from his seat, and so missed the meaningful glance that Alan gave Brains.

The three of them took the lift down to the lounge, where they sat on the green couch. Alan pressed a button under the edge of the sofa, and they were on their way back to the lounge in the Villa. Jeff was exhausted from the tension of the landing but exhilarated about having gone back into space again. _That adrenaline sure kicked in on this trip. I could do that every month and still get a kick from it. I expect the same kick when I go out on my first rescue._

The empty couch passed them on the hydraulic lift as they were hoisted up, up, up through the floor and into the lounge. Around them, everyone burst into applause, and Alan and Brains joined in as soon as they saw the others. Jeff scratched his head, a bemused and blushing expression on his face.

When the clapping ended, John asked, "So, how was it, Dad? How did it compare to your trip to the moon?"

Jeff breathed out, hard. "It was exhilarating and exciting and it made me very, very happy, John. It also opened my eyes to a few things that I'll be discussing with you all after the holidays. But right now, I'm glad to be home and I'm hungry! What's for dinner?"

There were laughs and chuckles all around as the three travelers picked themselves off the couch and headed for the dining room.

-------------------------------------

"All right. This is it. Brains, what did Father say?" Scott jiggled down his pants leg as he settled into the overstuffed chair at the Cliff House.

"First of a-all, he l-Looked in the, uh, uniform st-storage unit and l- laughed. Then h-he said, a-and I, uh, qu-quote, 'I guess i-if I'm going t- to d-do this with a-any, uh, r-regularity, I'd b-better put one o-of m-my own u-uniforms in th-there. I-I doubt I'd f-fit into A-Alan's or e-even, uh, Scott's!' " Brains reported.

Alan piped up. "Yes, and after we landed, he said he would need lots more practice to feel comfortable landing Thunderbird Three."

"So, it seems that he was satisfied with doing the run up to Thunderbird Five and back," Virgil concluded.

"It seems that way," Scott said, frowning. "I just don't think it will keep him satisfied."

"So do we drop Operation: Change of Mind?" John asked.

"Or do we take Kyrano's suggestion and let him go out on a rescue as part of the operation?" Gordon proposed.

Scott was silent for a while and everyone watched him. He was field commander; if their father went out on a rescue, it would be his responsibility to keep Jeff safe.

Finally he sighed, and spoke. "I think we need to keep Operation: Change of Mind going. Do everything we can to deter him from going out. If he insists on joining us for a rescue, I don't see how we can stop him. But until that happens, I feel we need to keep trying to change his mind. For the security of IR. For his own safety. And for ours." He looked around. "Let's vote on it. Brains?"

"I c-concur. The r-run to and fr-from, uh, Thunderbird F-Five would pale a- after a while and p-put your f-father right b-back where he, uh, started." Brains explained.

"Tin-Tin?"

"I also agree. The security issue bothers me a lot."

"Virgil?"

"I guess so. I don't want to be the one keeping tabs on him during a rescue."

"Gordon?"

"Yes. There have been enough reasons given to satisfy me that we have to try and change his mind."

"John?"

"I vote yes. You know my reasons."

"Alan?"

"Hmm. You're right, Scott. I vote yes. Besides, I want to have some of that one-on-one time Gordon and Virgil enjoyed with Dad."

"Kyrano?"

"I do not agree. I feel that if you bring your concerns to your father, he will listen. He will see the love and care behind your objections and that will deter him from going out on rescues. This Operation: Change of Mind is not working. It is only strengthening his resolve."

"And I vote yes, as well. Seven yeas, one nay. We keep Operation: Change of Mind going. Who's next with the physical challenge?"

"I will be," John raised his hand. "If Brains can help me think up a reason to go caving in the lava tubes on the Island."

"I-I will th-think about it f-for you, uh, J-John." Brains promised.

"And I'll try and get him to do the post flight on Thunderbird Three with me." Alan proposed. "It's not as much fun as exploring caves or scuba diving, but I'd have some one-on-one time with him. And I can think up something fun for later."

"Good, that's settled. Now let's get back to the Villa. We have a Christmas tree to finish decorating." Scott said as he rose.

Kyrano took up the rear as the group headed back to the Villa. He shook his silvered head as he thought of what Scott and his brothers were trying to do. _None of this will change the mind of Jefferson Tracy. Only knowing the concerns that his sons have for him will bring about any difference in the plans that I am sure he has for himself and for International Rescue._


	11. Chapter 10 Mole People

**Chapter 10--Mole People**

"S-Scott? Could y-you come down to the, uh, l-lab? I-I need a second, uh, o- opinion."

Scott was surprised to see Brains' frowning face on the miniature screen of his telecomm watch.

"Sure, Brains. I'll be right there."

Scott picked up the monorail in the Villa and set the controls to take him the shortest way to the laboratory block, passing through Thunderbird One's hanger and launch pad, coming out to an open area near the shielded power house with its atomic fusion reactor, then making a sharp right and going down a slight incline to Brains' domain. He stopped the monorail car there and disembarked.

As he entered the lab, he saw Brains in front of a large plasma computer screen. It showed the vast complex of hangars, passages, and storage areas that honeycombed this side of Tracy Island. Brains turned as Scott came up behind him.

"Th-There you are, Scott. W-We have a p-problem." Brains indicated a blank area to the northeast of the lab. "I-I'm not getting a, uh, signal from th- the atomic waste and s-sewer treatment plant. Th-there may be a s-serious breakdown or, uh, leakage there."

Scott thought hard to remember what exactly Brains was talking about. Then it came to him. The sewage and atomic wastes created by the complex that was his home were treated and broken down into harmless materials in a special machine that was in a cavern beyond the powerhouse. The leftover materials were shunted out through pipes into the depths of the dead volcano that made up Tracy Island. Eventually they leached through the rock and sand until, filtered clean and resalinated, they became part of the seawater that surrounded the isle.

"You're right, Brains. That would be a problem. But why come to me? Why haven't you told Father?" Scott asked.

"I told M-Mr. Tracy. He s-said someone has to go down there and, uh, take a l-look." Brains explained. "I th-think he wants m-me to go, but I-I'm not fond of caves and don't want to go alone." He gave Scott a hopeful look. "I w-was hoping to talk you into, uh, accompanying me."

"Well, Brains, I guess I could... hey! Wait a minute! This is in a cavern, right?" Scott sounded excited.

"Y-Yes."

"And it requires a bit of hiking and rappelling through other caverns to get to it, right?"

"O-Of course!" Brains' voice changed to a pleased timbre as he understood what Scott was getting at. "I-It would require caving! J-Just what John wanted t-to do with, uh, your father!"

"Caving? Isn't the term 'spelunking'?" Scott asked. Brains waved a hand as if dismissing the word.

"The t-term 'spelunker' has developed a n-negative connotation. I-It often denotes an amateur in c-cave exploration. A c-caver is someone who e- explores caves, but uses the correct safety, uh, techniques. L-like John. H- He would be considered a, uh, caver."

"Oh." replied Scott, taken aback by Brains' explanation. "I didn't know there was a difference." He took a deep breath, and let it out. "So, you let my father know that you've got the perfect investigator in mind: John Tracy. And mention the spelunk... uh, caving to him, too. Dad does like to rattle around in caves. I'll inform John so he can wheedle Dad into going along."

"FAB, S-Scott." Brains replied with a grin.

Jeff sat at his desk in the brightly decorated lounge, a sour look on his face. _What a time for the treatment plant to go bad! How are we going to get parts on Christmas Eve? And there's so much work to do here if I'm going to clear my desk and enjoy tomorrow. My little foray back into space cost me some precious hours working on an expansion proposal.... but I wouldn't trade it for any hundred such opportunities. Why doesn't business break for the holidays?_

Jeff looked up as John entered the lounge, wearing an old flight suit that had seen better days, a helmet with a light attached to the front, and carrying another flight suit draped over one arm and another helmet in his hand. He gave his father a questioning look. Jeff groaned.

"I wish I could, son, you know I do. I love caving and the lava tube caves around here are great to explore. But I have so much work to do....."

"Dad, what's the use of being the owner of the company if you can't put your work away and do something you love when you want to?" John asked bluntly. "Besides, what's going to happen to the Island if this problem with the treatment plant turns out to be serious? You know that it's no picnic getting down there and it takes skill to do it. Skill that you and I have in abundance. Now, just put up your desk and let's get going!"

Jeff sat still for a moment, his eyes closed. Then he sighed and opened his eyes. He shook his head as he looked over at a grinning John. "How do you talk me into these things?" he growled. Taking the stack of papers he was reading, Jeff tamped them down on the desk to make a neat pile, then laid them on the desktop. Turning behind him, he pushed a button, and the whole work surface rose up on thetwo floor-to-ceiling struts that held it in place to slide securely into a form-fitting groove in the ceiling.

Having done that, he took the flightsuit from John and disappeared into the small washroom off of the lounge. Within minutes, he returned, dressed in the grubby suit, and taking the second helmet from his son, led the way to the monorail car.

"I see you've been busy," Jeff said wryly as he saw the collection of caving gear neatly stacked on the floor of the monorail.

"Yep," was John's laconic answer. "I knew I'd have to whisk you away from that desk before you began to have second thoughts about taking the time. So I gathered up all the pertinent gear beforehand. Here are your knee pads. Brains said he'd meet us at the powerhouse to give us some tools we'll need to evaluate the treatment plant."

"I've done more maintenance around this place in the two weeks than I've done in the past two years!" Jeff joked as he started the monorail on its way to the powerhouse. Just before the track took the sharp right turn that would bring them down to the laboratory, Jeff stopped the car. He picked up the equipment he would need, as did John, and they joined Brains, who was waiting for them on the platform before the powerhouse.

"Brains, before you give us what we need for the job, let us get our caving and climbing gear on, okay?" John asked the scientist. "That way, we won't be jostling any of the instruments while trying to put on harnesses or other gear."

"S-sure, John. T-take your time," Brains replied, his words belied by his impatient bobbing up and down.

Jeff reached into his pile of equipment and pulled out a lower body harness. It was much like what he had worn climbing the rock face with Virgil, but the straps were wider. He put this on, then pulled out a chest- box, a small harness that went over his shoulders and fastened around his chest under the arms. He already had his knee pads on, and changed his house shoes for a pair of beat-up boots from his Air Force days, which he laced tightly. He checked the light on his helmet to see how bright it was and stood up, smiling as he saw John was ready, too.

"F-first you'll need to, uh, check the status b-board on the plant t-to see if that is the problem," Brains explained. "I-It would be the, uh, easiest thing to r-repair. I've included s-some spare p-parts for the areas o-of the board most likely to, uh, fail. If the status b-board is good, then, uh, do a visual sw-sweep of the plant and l-look for any leaks. I'm sending a-along a small l-laser welder." He handed a small clear dome to Jeff. "P- put this on over your telecomm face, M-Mr. Tracy. It will make y-your telecomm signal into a tighter, uh, beam that w-will penetrate to the lab so you c-can ask for advice should you, uh, need it."

"Hey, why can't we use those in rescues?" John asked, taking a good look at Brains' new device.

"You p-probably could in a situation l-like this. But a-although the beam is tighter, the r-range is reduced. This w-won't reach to the Villa. J-Just as far as the, uh, lab." Brains told him. "In a r-rescue, it probably would make it to Mobile Control."

Brains held out one more item. "You'll n-need this G-Geiger counter as well. Once you g-get past the spot where the, uh, main lines disappear, use it to see if there's a-any radiation l-leakage. If so, come back i- immediately. W-We'll have to use radiation suits to go i-in if this is the, uh, case."

John nodded in understanding. He checked out the knapsack with the equipment that Brains had given him, got the pack situated comfortably on his back, then put on some thick leather gloves. Jeff hefted another knapsack with caving equipment in it onto his back, then settled a length of rope over one shoulder. He also put on thick gloves, and John added a rope to his own burden. Both of them made sure their helmet lights were on, then waved at Brains and began their trek.

The caves and caverns on Tracy Island had been created mostly by the flow of lava from the extinct volcano. Some of the larger caverns had been carved out by lava pooling in them and had been further carved out by the hands of man. There were also a few sea caves that had been created by the tides and winds along the coastline on the other side of the Island from the Villa, but none of them connected with the lava tubes that honeycombed the rest of the islet. The treatment plant lay in a cold, congealed lava lake, which gave its builders a mostly flat surface on which to build. The lava lake was at the bottom of a tall lava falls, a place where the ancient lava flow had dropped off into a larger cavern before pushing and melting its way further down towards the sea.

To reach the lava tubes that led to the treatment plant, Jeff and John had to go around the powerhouse block, a huge shielded cement structure that held the atomic fusion generator which supplied power to the entire complex. The block very nearly filled the cavern, and in some places, the going was tight. It was pitch black back there; the only light that the two had was from their helmet beacons.

"I don't know if I can get through here, John," Jeff panted, trying to squeeze through an opening between cement and rock wall that even his more slender son had found troublesome. _Now I really wish I had spent the time to build a more direct route to the treatment plant. I guess I went overboard with the idea of "caving gently"._

"Hand me your pack, Dad. Then try again." John encouraged, holding out his long arm for the knapsack his father carried. Jeff backed out of the tight spot, removed his backpack, and reached as far as he could to John's outstretched arm. Then he took a deep breath, and began to try and edge sideways through the narrow channel. He was scraping through, but his face was turning red as he held on to his breath, sucking in his abs, and John became alarmed that his father would either pass out or get stuck or both. He took hold of the nearest of Jeff's arms and pulled, hard.

"Whew!" Jeff said as he popped out of the narrow spot. He leaned over, putting his hands on his knees to steady himself, breathing hard until the room stopped spinning and the spots left his vision. John breathed a quiet sigh of relief at seeing his father's too ruddy face turn back to a more normal color.

Jeff looked back at the crack, shining his lamp on it and giving it a critical eye. "Y'know, I think that I'd have better luck on the way back trying to get through under this cutback instead of squeezing between its edge and the powerhouse wall." John looked at what his father was pointing at and nodded. There was a wider clear space under the ridge of the lava cutback than the one they had just struggled through.

"I think you're right. On the way back, then." John remarked with a nod. He handed his father the pack in his hand, turned away from the lava cutback, and resumed his hike along the back wall of the cavern. Jeff put the pack on his back again as he followed his son's bobbing helmet light.

Eventually, they came to the right angle of the wall furthest from their starting point. John turned the corner and swore.

"What's the problem, son?" Jeff asked as he turned the corner. Then he saw for himself the obstacle that confronted them.

Two huge pipes, one from the powerhouse and one from the rest of the complex, blocked the way before them. The pipes were at least a meter and a half in diameter, and Jeff could feel the heat from the nearest one, the one that took the waste product of the reactor to the treatment plant.

Jeff frowned. "I thought we built a catwalk over these things so we could cross them easily?"

"I think that the catwalk got lost in the shuffle once we started operations, Dad." John looked at the conduits ruefully. "It would be a good idea to build one for future trips down to the treatment plant."

"I'll keep that in mind for an after-holiday project," Jeff retorted.

The two men approached the pipes. "That's lead shielded, John, so that we're safe radiation-wise. But it's hot in another way, isn't it?" Jeff asked. John nodded.

"The pipes go along one side of the lava tube, leaving just a small pathway for walking in. Then the tube narrows and the pipes go through the rock. That is, until we reach the treatment plant." John explained. Jeff looked at him, puzzled.

"It sounds like you've been down here before, John. I've explored some of the other lava tubes, the ones we're not using for storage or hangars, but not this one, not for a long time. I have a vague recollection of a lava fall and a lava pool, but that's all." Jeff told him. "When were you down here last?"

"Six or seven months ago. With Brains. He was doing some routine maintenance on the treatment plant and needed someone to go with him. The others were out on rescue so I was the obvious choice. I should have mentioned the need for a catwalk back then." John said distractedly, his gaze still fixed on the obstacle before them. "When we get to the treatment plant, the pipes will come out of the rock again and slope down to the machinery. That's where the lava fall is."

"How deep?" Jeff asked, fingering the rope on his shoulder. John finally turned to look at him and smile.

"About 10 meters. Really, not a bad rappel, but it's a bear to put an anchor in the floor. There's a pile of welded breakdown there that is really hardened. Hopefully the anchor we put in last time will still be sturdy."

"If not, we can use a stalagmite if there's one handy." Jeff said. John frowned.

"Not the best idea, Dad. Lava stalagmites are not the strongest formations in the world. If it broke while you were on the rope...." John warned.

"Point taken, John. I'll use the anchor if it's still in solid." Jeff assured him.

"Well, let's get going. We've got to cross these lines and then we can follow the lava tube down to our destination," John said with a sigh. He reached up and grabbed the top of the first pipe, the hot one, while Jeff made a cradle of his hands and gave John a boost. Then John sat astride the pipe and reached down to help his father up. One at a time, they jumped across to the cooler pipe, John teetering precariously as he made his leap. Once he had regained his balance, he was able to steady Jeff when the older man made his jump. Then they slid down the side of the second conduit to the ground.

"You know, that went well considering we did it in the light of the headlamps," Jeff mentioned conversationally. John laughed.

"We seem to have the habit of making the difficult look simple, don't we, Dad?" he riposted. Jeff chuckled.

The floor of the lava tube was flat and relatively smooth. It was sometimes difficult to keep track of both feet and head, but John went first and warned Jeff of obstacles in their way, either on the floor or hanging from the ceiling. Jeff was fascinated by the striations on the walls and the coloring that marked the high lava line.

_I am certainly glad that our little volcano is extinct. The geothermal energy would have been great to have, but the dangers inherent in an eruption far outweigh the benefits of that power source._

Jeff's thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he bumped into John's back.

"What's the problem, son?" he asked, trying to peer around John to see why he stopped.

"Fresh breakdown, Dad. We'll have to do some digging to get through," John muttered in disgust. He moved out of his father's way so Jeff could see the passage blocked by loose rock from the ceiling.

"It doesn't look that bad, John," Jeff asserted. "Looks like the fresh stuff fell on some welded breakdown. We'll only have to shift the loose rock."

John nodded as he began to pull the pieces of old lava from the top of the pile. "I remember the welded pile now from my last visit. I wonder if this is blocking the signal from the treatment plant?"

"Let's clear it out and then I'll contact Brains and find out," Jeff said, reaching up to help his son clear the top of the passage. Within a few minutes, John was atop the pile and pushing the remaining rock down through the opening to the other side. Seeing this, Jeff activated his wrist telecomm.

"Jeff Tracy to Brains. Do you read me?"

The picture was fuzzy and the voice tinny. Jeff turned up the volume to maximum.

"I-I barely read you, Mr. T-Tracy. What h-have you found?" Brains asked.

"We've come across a fall of loose breakdown, and were wondering if this could be blocking the signal from the treatment plant." Jeff asked, unconsciously raising his voice to be heard.

"N-No, Mr. Tracy. I s-still have no signal from the, uh, plant." Brains replied. "Y-You'll have to k-keep going."

"FAB, Brains. We'll keep you apprised. Tracy out." Jeff shook his head as he turned off the telecomm. "If the reception's that bad just this far in, think what it will be like when we reach the plant."

"Hopefully the communications system at the plant itself will be working," John declared. He had already crawled through the opening at the top of the pile of welded breakdown and was looking back at his father. "Hand me your pack and come join me. We're about to lose the pipes."

Jeff handed his backpack up to John and slipped through the small opening feet first, dropping to the floor on the other side, losing his balance slightly on the loose bits of rock. His light followed the huge conduits for about three meters and he saw them disappear into the angled rock wall to his left. He shook his head in amazement.

"How did we ever do that?" he asked, more to himself than to John. John grinned at him.

"We used that miniature prototype of the Mole, Dad," John remembered. "It was just big enough to hold one of us if we were lying down. I remember Virgil and Scott worked on the first tunnel. Alan and I got to work on the second tunnel. I'll never forget Scott yelling into his communicator when he bored right out into the big chamber where the lava lake is. Good thing he stopped that prototype in time!"

"Hmm. Maybe we should get Brains to build us something like that again. But a bit bigger. The Mole is great, just too big for some jobs." Jeff looked over at John, noticing the smudged face. "Remind me to talk to him about it."

"Okay, Dad." John put down his pack and pulled out the Geiger counter. Turning it on, he waved it ahead of them. It beeped only occasionally. "Good news so far. No radiation leakage. We can go on."

"So, let's go," Jeff said, shouldering his pack again and grinning.

John took the lead again, Geiger counter in hand. The passage caused by lava flowing to the sea twisted and turned. Occasionally there were ridges along the bottom, or places that were made narrow by lava aprons or cutbacks. There were skinny stalactites protruding from the ceiling, and occasionally the roof dipped and the two cavers found themselves crawling through small tunnels.

At long last, John remarked, "I think the lava fall and the treatment plant are around the next bend, Dad." The Geiger counter had continued the steady "I'm working" beep.

"Looks like the problem is not a leak, at least not according to the Geiger counter. If it were, the counter would be beeping louder and faster," Jeff observed with a sigh of relief. Suddenly, the chamber where the treatment plant was situated opened up before them. Even though he knew approximately where it was, it still took John by surprise and he teetered on the brink of the large chamber.

"Whoa!" he shouted, surprised. Jeff leapt forward and caught John by the harness, pulling him back from the brink. His pull was so strong that both he and John overbalanced and fell to the cave floor, John landing squarely on top of Jeff.

"Dad? Are you all right?" John cried, concerned, as he rolled off his father and helped him to stand up. Jeff rubbed his abdomen and smiled ruefully.

"Guess the old man has some strength left in him after all," joshed Jeff. "You, John, are heavier than you look."

"It's all muscle, Dad," John riposted with a relieved grin, flexing one arm. Jeff rolled his eyes and advanced carefully to the edge of the lava fall to look down. His foot kicked something that made a metallic clank, and he looked down.

"There's that anchor of yours, John," Jeff pointed out. John nodded and squatted down to give it a good pull.

"Looks like it's in there good and solid. We'll be able to use it on our way down." John frowned as his light played over the treatment plant. "There's something wrong here. I can't put my finger on it just yet, but it will come to me."

Jeff played his headlamp over the plant as well and stopped when he saw something on the wall. "Aren't there supposed to be lights working down here at all times?"

John's face lit up with realization. "Yeah! That's what's wrong. The lights are out. Hmm. That indicates an electrical problem. Too bad we didn't keep an eye on the electrical conduit on the way out here as well. It would be a shame if we came all the way down here to fix a problem and have to back track to find a broken wire or something like that. It would be such a waste of time."

"Not at waste at all, John. We had to get all the way down here just to find out what happened. We wouldn't have realized the problem even if we had checked the electrical wiring on the way down," Jeff reminded him. "Now let's get down there and find out where this problem originated. You set up your rappel line while I try and contact Brains."

Jeff turned the gain all the way up on his telecomm. "Jeff Tracy to Brains. Do you read me, Brains?"

There was no picture at all this time, and the voice was broken up by static. "Brains to crackle T-Tracy. I b-barely pssssstbuzzzzzz you."

Jeff raised his voice. "We have discovered a problem. The lights are not working. We're preparing to see what happened to the electricity."

Brains responded. hmmmmmssssst "M-Mr. Tracy. Will a-await" clickclickbuzzz "repor..." pssssst

Jeff turned off his telecomm. "That went well," he said wryly. He shone his headlamp on John.

"I'm almost ready, Dad. Just one more adjustment," John said, slipping his rope through the same kind of belaying device that Jeff and Virgil had used for their rappel down the promontory wall. John tested the rope, the knot he used, and the anchor by tugging hard. Then he grinned at his father.

"Okay, Dad. Here I go!" he yelled as he jumped backwards off the edge of the lava falls cliff. His gleeful shout reverberated in the cavern as he jumped, and Jeff leaned over the cliff as far as he dared to watch John free-fall nearly to the cave floor, the belaying device slowing the fall but not stopping it. He shook his head at his son's risky antics.

"I'm down, Dad. Pull up the rope!"

Jeff took up the rope and pulled another belaying device out of his pack. He wove the thick cord skillfully through the crossbars, then attached it to his harness with a carbiner. He backed up to the edge of the lava fall, and turned his light and sight downward.

"Look out below!" he cried enthusiastically as he jumped over the edge.

Instead of a controlled free-fall, Jeff opted to jump. He let his body swing first outward, then back to the wall, flexing his knees and jumping again while letting out the rope. It took only three jumps for him to make it to the floor of the cavern. Once there, he unthreaded the rope from the belaying device, and put the device back in his pack.

"Aw, Dad! Live a little! You should have done the free-fall!" John told him jokingly.

"No, son. I intend to keep my skin, my legs, and my neck all in one piece," Jeff replied. "Now, let's get a good look at this monster."

Using their headlamps, they moved towards the control room of the huge tank that held the materials to be treated. As they climbed the stairs to the control room, John wrinkled his nose in disgust and remarked, "Whew! What a smell! It's a good thing those pipes are as long as they are or else we'd have a major back up into the house and the power plant. This doesn't seem to be working at all."

"Then let's try the main power box first, and go from there," Jeff suggested.

The door to the treatment plant would not open.

"Damn! I forgot that it's an electric door just like all the others!" Jeff swore. "One of these days I am going to put old fashioned hinge doors on every room in the house! Not only can you open them without electricity, but they are very satisfying to slam when you're frustrated." He pounded on the door, then added, "Like I am now!"

"Wait a minute, Dad! Simmer down. I have an idea," John said, an affectionate and amused tone in his voice. He removed his gloves and reached into his father's pack to pull out one of the spare lights, unfastening it from its battery pack. "Shine your light on the door button for me, please, Dad."

Jeff complied, and John used a screwdriver to pop off the cover that surrounded the button. Reaching in, he pulled out the wires, carefully following each one to see where it went.

"Okay, I'm going to splice the battery in and see what happens." His long fingers used a wire cutter to snip and strip the wires going from the button to the door, making the battery become the door switch.

"When I touch the battery's pole, the door should open. We'll need to wedge it in the 'up' position so we don't have to go through this again." John explained, looking at Jeff expectantly.

Jeff nodded. "I'll get a couple of pieces of broken rock to wedge into the track." He went back down to the floor of the lava lake and, after shining his light around, chose two thin lava stalagmites. He broke them off at the base and brought them up to John. _So much for caving gently. But this is an emergency._

"I hope those hold, Dad. They look awfully thin." John said doubtfully.

"I hope we can restore power to this thing," Jeff replied fervently. "Then we can get out without using up the battery charge. We may need both batteries on the way back."

"I hope so, too." John turned his attention to the battery and the wire he held in the wire cutters. "Are you ready?"

"FAB, son. Go ahead."

John touched the wire to the battery pole, and a spark arced from the battery to the wire. The door slid open, and Jeff quickly stepped inside, stuffing the skinny spurs of rock into the tracks nearly all the way to the top. Then John let go of the battery and dove through the door. He needn't have bothered; the stalagmites proved to be stronger than they looked and the door stayed open.

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. "Great work, John. That was fast thinking."

John colored pink with delight, though Jeff couldn't see it. "Thanks, Dad. I'm glad it worked," he replied modestly. He began to prowl around the control room, looking for the main powerbox.

Jeff searched the other side of the room, the two of them instinctively working their way from the door to meet in the middle of the room on the other side. Before he got a third of the way there, Jeff called out, "Here it is, John."

He opened the box with the power conduits running through it. The circuits were regulated by special switches, a newer form of circuit breakers. Each of the switches had a glowing green light next to it. Jeff shook his head as John joined him.

"I don't get it, John. The power grid is green across the board," Jeff said. John shrugged noncommittally, a gesture Jeff caught in his helmet's light.

"The problem is elsewhere, then. Brains did say that the control panel would be the most likely to go and the easiest to repair. The main board is over here." John pointed to a console on the opposite wall.

"Okay, then we need to look that over. But first, let's cut the power to the plant so we can work safely." Jeff suited his actions to his words by turning off the master switch. All the little green lights faded to black as the power to them was cut.

Jeff turned to see that John had already removed a panel from the front of the control console, and had his head and hands inside, poking about. "Whatever is bad in here is blocking power to the whole system," the younger Tracy explained. He pulled himself out far enough to speak to his father. "Now's the time to ask Brains what to do."

"FAB. I just hope we can get in touch with him." Jeff found his way out to the landing of the steps that led to the control room. He turned on his telecomm to voice only. Maybe that will do the trick.

"Jeff Tracy to laboratory. Can you read me, Brains?" He waited anxiously for a reply.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Tracy. I-I can read you. I t-took the time to, uh, increase the sensitivity of my antenna dish. I-I see you are using v-voice only; a wise move. Wh-What do you need?" Brains voice was clear though soft.

"Power is out down here across the board. The electricity is making into the main power board but something is blocking it from going to the rest of the system. What could be causing it?" Jeff asked succinctly.

"You s-say that power is going to the, uh, main switch b-box but not to the r-rest of the, uh, system?" Brains asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes, that's it." Jeff confirmed. He could hear his resident genius muttering in the background.

"O-Okay. It sounds l-like the main power director has a loose wire, or th- that the, uh, power distributor b-board is bad. More likely the board. Must have b-been a power surge r-recently," Brains explained. "T-try that first."

"FAB, Brains." Jeff ducked back into the control room. "He says that the power distributor board is probably bad," he explained to John.

"Oohh-kay." John replied wryly. "Now, just where is that board?" He moved around some wires and capacitor boards inside the console and found a large motherboard. "I think I found it, Dad." Carefully, John disconnected it from the wires that held it in and he pulled it from the console to show it to Jeff. One side was scorched and melted in two spots.

"Yes, a power surge for sure," Jeff agreed, nodding his head. "Question is, do we have a replacement for it?"

"I think so, Dad. Brains does tend to think of everything." John opened the pack of repair materials and took out a bubble wrapped circuitry board. He unwrapped the new board and compared the two. "Yes, they match. Now to install it. Dad, could you open up the other panel and shine your light in there? I'll be able to see what I'm doing much more easily."

"Sure, son." Jeff opened up the side panel of the console and shone his headlamp into the area where the new panel was to go. He had glimpses of his son's long nimble fingers through the wires and other capacitor boards as the younger man worked. _He sure knows what he's doing here. Probably has made lots of repairs like this up on Thunderbird Five. I've got to think of a way to automate Thunderbird Five yet keep the human touch. People in distress want to hear a sympathetic voice. But I can't continue to leave John or Alan up there, even for a month at a time. I've got to have them down here if I'm going to groom them to take over when I'm.... gone._

He was lost in his thoughts when John's voice brought him back to reality.

"There, that's done." John said, satisfied, dusting off his hands on his suit as he came out from under the console. "Now to turn the power back on."

"I think we'd better turn it on system by system," Jeff suggested. "Don't want to overload it all at once." He stepped over to the main switch box and proceeded to flip all the switches to the "off" position. Then he looked over at John, who was still sitting on the floor.

"Ready, John?"

"FAB, Dad."

Jeff threw the main power switch and watched as the little lights inside the box began to glow red. Then, starting at the top, he went down the line, turning the toggles over to the "on" position, waiting moment between each one to see what would happen. The console itself came on first. Then, the noise of the treatment plant coming back online startled both men, and they grinned at each other. The lights went on outside, then inside, and the door whined as it tried to close. John got up and pulled the stalagmites from the door tracks and pushed on the door button to make sure they could get out with the power back on.

"I'll put the outside door button back together again," John offered quickly, disappearing to the outside.

The final switch showed a green light and the treatment plant was fully operational again. Jeff strode over to the communications panel.

"Jeff Tracy to Brains. Can you read me, Brains? Do you have a signal?"

The response came through the console's speakers, loud and clear. "Y-Yes, Mr. Tracy! I have a signal from the treatment p-plant again. And I-I read you five by five."

"Excellent! We'll be back to the Villa soon. By the way, it was the board that was bad. John replaced it. Looks like a power surge." Jeff chuckled. "Maybe all those Christmas lights caused the surge."

"I-I doubt it, Mr. Tracy. I-I'll have to run some, uh, diagnostics on the p- power plant," Brains radioed.

"Leave it until after tomorrow, Brains. Christmas Eve is almost upon us, and I won't have anyone working on more than absolutely necessary. So unless there's an emergency, you're to leave the lab alone and join the family for celebration," Jeff told him emphatically.

"FAB, Mr. T-Tracy," Brains answered, an amused tone in his voice. The door opened and John walked in.

"Hey, Dad. Let's take a break before we start back," John suggested, holding out a bottle of water.

"Okay, son. Brains, we'll be back within a couple of hours. Tracy out." Jeff took the bottle of water. "Thanks, John. Let's sit down outside."

The two men sat on the steps, John one step down from Jeff, and turned towards him.

Jeff took a swallow of water, and looked around the plant. John watched his father. But when his father looked at him, he looked away, taking a swallow of his own water. The only sounds in the cavern were that of the treatment plant and the hum of the halogen lights that surrounded it.

"John?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"How do you feel about your work in Thunderbird Five?" Jeff asked seriously.

John took a breath and blew it out. He was silent for a few minutes. Then he spoke.

"I love the opportunities for stargazing. I love being the lifeline for those who call on us, the first voice of hope that they hear. I don't even mind the quiet times when nothing is happening and no one is calling. I feel good when I can be a help to the others when they are on a rescue, but I hate it when something goes wrong and I am helpless up there. I hate it when Alan squirms out of his shift for one reason or another. When he is injured, that's one thing, I can deal with that; but so often he's got some lame excuse and that's when I get steamed about it.

"I like to pilot Thunderbird Three and wish I got more of a chance to do it. I also like going out on rescues when I'm home. I was really glad to be a help to Gordon on that last rescue; I'd like to learn more about what he does. I'd like to crosstrain with Virgil and Scott, too, for that matter. Learn to pilot Thunderbirds One, Two and Four. Learn to use Mobile Control. Be the 'jack of all trades' in the family." John's voice waxed enthusiastic when he spoke about what he wanted to do.

Then his tone turned thoughtful and he shrugged his shoulders. "It may be just a dream. I know I'm needed up there as the 'eye in the sky'. But I'd like to be more than just a... a... what did they used to call them? Oh yeah. A switchboard operator."

John found his father looking at him intently, nodding gently. The older man took another swig of water, then rested his forearms on his knees, the bottle dangling from his fingers.

"I never seem to get the time to talk to you like this, John. I see the others every day and often have conversations with them about such things, especially after a rescue. But not you. When you're home, I'm either too busy, or sometimes, I just don't want to intrude on your time of recharging and fun with your brothers. I just thought I'd take the opportunity now to talk to you and listen to what you have to say."

Jeff blew out a breath of air. "I'm finding myself looking more and more to the future of International Rescue. And to Tracy Industries as well. I've decided to send one of you... men... each month to Tracy Industries corporate headquarters to get your feet wet in our official family business. I... I'm not going to be around forever. And you all need to know your way around the business." Jeff gave his son a long look. "Would you be willing to be the first to go? During your month off? I know it would be keeping you from doing rescues, and you'd be away from the family again, but you'd be doing something different. Of all my sons, you seem to be the one with the keenest business sense. I haven't forgotten the little argument you and Scott had over the Ocean Pioneer II."

John grinned. "We weren't arguing, Dad. We were just... discussing. That's all." Then John's look turned thoughtful. "If each of us is going to spend a month in New York, won't that leave IR shorthanded?"

Jeff hemmed a little. "Well, no, not really. There is Brains. And Tin-Tin will be available, too, you know."

_Yes, and you are counting yourself in there, too, Dad, aren't you? You just don't want to let on yet._ John thought. He scratched his head. "If you think that they'll be good replacements for a seasoned operative...."

"They'll do. And they'll get more 'seasoning' the more rescues they work," Jeff said firmly. "Well, John. What do you say? Will you be the first to brave the wilds of corporate life?"

"Sure, Dad, sure. Thanks for the compliment about my business sense, too. I just cringed at the thought of that huge new ship blown to smithereens once we got the men off," John remarked. Then he grinned again. "I hope your estimation of my 'keen business sense' is the same after I spend a month at corporate."

Jeff laughed. "I'll be watching you carefully, and reaming you out when I think you need it, don't you worry." He looked around at the cavern in the halogen lights. "Our work here is through and Christmas Eve dinner awaits. What say we blow this popsicle stand and head for home?"

John drained his water bottle. "Sounds good, Dad. Let's go."

* * *

_author's note_--definitions of terms

_Lava tube_--made by the flow of lava down to the sea. Sometimes runs underground for miles, sometimes the lava eats away at the surface downward, creating high walls that eventually close over at the top. Most volcanic islands have these.

_Breakdown_--bits of old lava and/or rock that have fallen from the ceiling

_Welded breakdown_--breakdown that has had lava flow over it again, welding the little pieces together

_Lava falls_--where lava falls from one level to another

_Lava lake_--a pool of lava that usually forms at the base of a lava falls

_cutback_--a part of a tube wall where the lava has melted an open channel in the wall, making that part of the tube wider


	12. Chapter 11 Little Things Mean A Lot

Hey! Here's that pesky little disclaimer: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far, especially on this chapter! And a big thanks to S.C. Tracy for her vacation suggestions. :-)

* * *

**Chapter 11--Little Things Mean A Lot**

"Scott, here's one for you," Jeff handed his oldest son a brightly wrapped package.

"Uh-oh, this is from Gordon!" Scott shook it gently. "I don't know if I should open this one!"

From his position on the floor, Gordon snorted. "You think I buy joke gifts all the time?" He looked up and grinned as his father handed a parcel to him. "Ooh! Another one for me! I love presents! Thanks, Dad!" He began to pull off the paper slowly, taking special care with it so the opening process lasted as long as possible.

Scott carefully opened the gift from Gordon. He lifted the cover from the box and pulled out the item on top. He groaned. John saw what he had pulled out, and tugged on Virgil's sleeve, a laugh beginning to bubble up. Virgil turned to look and began to snicker, then tapped Alan on the shoulder. Alan looked, too, and stared at the item in Scott's hands before dissolving into helpless laughter. By this time, John was rolling on the floor, holding his stomach and Virgil was roaring with mirth. Jeff looked over and began to chuckle at Scott's gift.

"What's so funny?" Grandma asked. She sat in a chair behind him, so her view of Scott's gift was blocked by his head, and quickly he put the item in question back in the box and slammed the lid down.

"Oh, nothing, Grandma. Really, it's nothing." Scott stammered, his face bright red. Then he heard a definitely feminine giggle and turned even a deeper red when he realized that Tin-Tin had seen Gordon's gift.

"So, wh-what is it, S-Scott?" Brains asked, his voice dripping with innocence. Scott just knew that the engineer had seen it and was trying to embarrass him.

"Nothing interesting, Brains," Scott said, shooting him a sharp look. "Really."

"Nothing interesting?!" Gordon argued, feigning offense. "You don't know how much I paid for those....umph!"

His next words were muffled by the throw pillow Scott lobbed at him.

"Hey!" Gordon complained, picking up the pillow and returning the favor. Instead of hitting Scott, however, Gordon's aim went wide and hit Virgil, who was seated on the floor in front of Tin-Tin. Tin-Tin picked up the pillow and handed it to him, and he tossed it back at Gordon, who ducked, the pillow flying over one shoulder to land in Brains' lap. Brains took the opportunity to wallop Gordon on the head before putting the pillow behind his back. Gordon turned to give Brains an incredulous look, then shrugged his shoulders and returned to slowly open his gift.

Scott breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Gordon's gift was not one he wanted to share with Grandma!

Gordon had fnally finished opening his package. He pulled out the item within, holding it up, but missed the envelope flew out from between its folds.

"A new wetsuit!" He looked over at Jeff and smiled. "Thanks, Dad! It will be great for surfing!"

Alan reached over and picked up the envelope. "You missed something, Gords." He contemplated his copper-haired brother with speculative look in his eye, and then handed the envelope over.

"Good thing it was me and not Scott who picked that up, Gords. You'd never have seen it again if it were Scott," Alan warned.

"Yeah, right," Gordon scoffed, as he opened the envelope. His eyes widened, and he gave his father a big grin.

Jeff watched the by-play with a slight smile on his face. _It's hard to come up with something that I know the boys will like and appreciate. I can buy them just about anything; it's the sorting through all the possibilities that gets tougher each year. In the end, my gifts don't usually fit under the tree. But this year I did something I should have been doing all along, and a little something extra that I should have done long, long ago._

"You've entered me in those three surfing competitions I wanted to go to! Wow! Accomodations already taken care of, a new board, and best of all, the time off so I can go! What a great gift, Dad! Thanks so much!" Gordon gushed. _The promise of time off is the best part; Dad doesn't make those kind of promises lightly._

Alan opened the small box that his father handed to him. He pulled out a set of keys. "What are these keys to, Father?" He looked in the box again, and pulled out an envelope. Opening it, he looked over the papers inside. He looked up at his father in complete surprise.

"Y-you entered me in the Paris-Dakar Rally? That's a 20-day race, Dad! You're letting me have 20 days off in a row?" Alan asked incredulously.

Jeff nodded. "Actually, more like 25. You'll need time to get acquainted with the vehicle and to recuperate afterwards. I've had a team souping up a 4 x 4 skimmer using some of Brains' innovations so you'll have the best transportation possible for the race." He wagged a finger at Alan. "I chose this race because it won't conflict with your regular stint up in Thunderbird Five." He smiled. "I know that, win or lose, you'll make us all proud."

Virgil, Scott and John looked at their father with complete surprise. Their little brothers were getting large chunks of time off? Why? How was that going to work with their IR duties?

"Virgil, this is for you." Jeff said simply as he handed his second son a package. Virgil looked over at Scott and then at John, and opened the package. Inside was a slim leather briefcase, his initials embossed on it in gold lettering. And sticking out of the outer pocket was an envelope. Virgil pulled the envelope from the case and opened it. His face turned from pensive to surprised delight in a flash.

"Father! A three-week music history tour of Europe? This itinerary! These musicians! The chance to learn so much about composition and history and technique and... and... WOW!" Virgil looked up at Jeff, grinning. "What a fabulous gift, Dad! Thank you!" He looked over the materials again and a puzzled look came over his face. "Uh, Dad, how is International Rescue going to function if we are all going hither and yon for two or three weeks at a time?"

"Don't worry about that, son. I've made sure that these excursions of yours have been timed so that we have enough manpower here to handle a rescue if need be. And I also would like you men to do some more intensive cross training on each other's Thunderbirds. That way we'd still have Thunderbird Four available to us when Gordon is gone, or Thunderbird Three while Alan is in North Africa." Jeff explained. He handed a package to John. As the blond eagerly opened the box, Jeff continued.

"It's become clear to me that you all need more time away from the Island to pursue your interests. Short spaces of time, a week or even just a weekend, are fine for a quick rest, but a longer vacation, where you can immerse yourself in the things you love to do and come back refreshed in body and mind are really necessary for all of us to stay healthy."

John pulled out an arctic parka. An envelope fluttered to the floor and John snagged it before one of his brothers could. He opened it up and looked at the contents, then looked up at his father with a puzzled look.

"An Antarctic cruise?"

Jeff looked at John with an amused look on his face. "You sit up on 'top' of the world looking down at it. Thought you might like seeing the 'bottom' of the world up close and personal."

"It looks really intriguing, Dad. You got a scuba option, too, I see," John said as he read the itinerary and brochure. Then he looked up with a big smile. "Thanks, Dad! I'm looking forward to this."

"Here is your gift, Scott." Jeff said as he handed his oldest son a sizeable box. Scott opened his box to find a high quality camera kit, complete with long range and zoom lenses. The now familiar envelope was on top, and Scott opened it before taking a good look at the camera equipment.

"A safari! What a wild idea!" Scott ignored the groans engendered by his pun as he perused the brochure. "Starts in Egypt with a cruise on the Nile and then heads to Kenya for wildlife viewing." He put the brochure aside and took a good look at the camera equipment. "Wow! Digital, vid, and old fashioned single-lens reflex. I'll have a good time with this, Dad. Thank you!"

He looked up at his father with a serious face. "You're sure we'll be able to handle this? The drain on manpower? I mean, I know you've been really careful about scheduling....."

Jeff held up a hand. "I know we can work around your vacations. We will because we have to. You all deserve some time away. Brains and Tin-Tin, too. I've got similar gifts for each of you." He handed the two engineers each a box of their own.

Brains pulled out a pith helmet, and opened his envelope. "Three weeks exploring I-Incan ruins! Th-Thank you, Mr. Tracy! I will, uh, look forward to this."

Tin-Tin's package contained a stylish new purse and in the purse.... "Tickets to fashion shows in Paris and Milan and a cruise on the Mediterranean between them! Oh, how lovely, Mr. Tracy! I know I will enjoy myself." She got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome, Brains, Tin-Tin. You need to refresh your minds and bodies as much as the rest of us." Jeff expounded. "We wouldn't have any Thunderbirds if it weren't for you, Brains. And you've been a great help in maintaining and upgrading our equipment, Tin-Tin."

"Hey, Dad? Are these more gifts from you?" Gordon asked.

Jeff nodded. "Just a little something. If you'd give them out, Gordon?"

Gordon handed out the packages, each identical in size. He sat back and ripped the paper off his. It was a picture frame, sitting face down in the box. He grinned up at Jeff, then flipped the picture over. His grin faded, and his fingers ghosted over the glass of the frame. Then he smiled again, got up from the floor and impulsively hugged his father, murmuring, "Thanks, Dad," in his ear.

"What is it, Gords?" Alan asked. Gordon turned the picture around to show to everyone; it was of him as a baby, sitting and bathing in the kitchen sink, splashing around with an infant look of delight on his face. His mother was holding a rubber duck and was making one of those silly "smile for me!" faces that grown-ups only do for babies. Water was splashed all over her dark shirt and droplets had been caught in mid-air by the camera lens.

Virgil watched the scene while absently opening his box from Jeff. He looked down to see a similar picture frame, and turned it over slowly, then laid it down in the box, staring at it. Looking over at Jeff, he caught his father's eye. "Thank you, Dad," he said, his voice full of amazement. He turned his frame so everyone could see.

The picture was of him and his mother at the piano. Her gaze was on him and she looked like she was caught singing. He was concentrating on the music as his little fingers spread across the keys. "Y'know, I think I remember this. I was five or six and Mom was trying to get me to practice more. So she sat down with me and made up words to the song I was playing. Silly words, too. By the end of the practice session I was almost on the floor with laughter," Virgil smiled.

Gordon had handed a package to John, who tore the box open, and turned over the frame. He stared at it for the longest time, shaking his head slightly and whispering, "Oh. Oh, Dad. Oh." over and over.

"John? Would you show us your picture?" Tin-Tin asked quietly. He looked up, startled at her question, then turned his gift so everyone could see. It was a very small version of himself, sitting on his mother's lap, head on her shoulder, eyes closed, thumb in his mouth. Lucille's head was bent toward his so her cheek lay on the downy white-blond fluff that was his hair.

"What a lovely shot!" Grandma said softly. "She's in that rocking chair she loved so much."

Alan took his present from Gordon's hand and opened it carefully. He blinked a few times, then looked at his father with a smile and said, "This is great, Dad. Thanks a lot!" He leaned over to share the gift with Tin- Tin.

"Share with the rest of us, will ya, Alan?" Gordon asked eagerly. Alan rolled his eyes and showed everyone the picture. The photo was one of his mother curled up on a couch, her head on a pillow in his father's lap. One of her hands was on his father's knee and they were looking at each other and smiling.

"Dad, why did you pick this one? I know that there probably aren't any pictures of Mom and me together...." Alan's voice trailed off.

Jeff chuckled. "You're in the picture, Alan. Just not visible. You're mother was pregnant with you when that was taken."

Alan grinned. "Ohhhhh, okay." He shook his head. "Man, Dad, I can't remember your hair ever being that dark! You look so much like Scott that it's scary!" A wave of laughter greeted that observation.

Scott was the last to get his gift. Like his brothers', his candid five by seven photograph was of him and his mother, Lucille. He was on her lap, a book open and both of them looking at it. "I couldn't have been more than three in this picture; Mom would have been pregnant with Virgil then." Scott looked up at his father who was watching him intently. He bit his lower lip to keep his welling emotions in check, and said simply, "Thanks, Dad. I love it." He turned and showed it to Grandma.

She gave Jeff a soft smile, and opened the package he handed to her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, my! Jeff! Where did you find this?" She turned the picture to face the assemblage. It was of her and her husband, sitting together, her husband holding a baby Jeff in his arms.

"Thank you, son. I'll always treasure this." Grandma said, rising from her chair. Jeff made his way over to her to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

There were photographs for the other members of the household as well. Kyrano got a candid shot of a pensive Tin-Tin. Tin-Tin got a double picture frame; one with a candid photo of her and Alan, the other was a shot of Kyrano in his garden. And Brains got a picture of himself with all of the Tracy sons, laughing at something or other.

The time of gift giving was over. Kyrano headed for the kitchen to prepare a brunch for the family. Each of the Tracys picked up their gifts and headed for their respective quarters to store their gifts and change clothes for the day. Before Jeff left the lounge, he went behind his desk. On the desk was a folded picture frame, one that held two pictures. He opened it, his hands trembling, his eyes threatening to fill with tears. He stood it on one end and looked at the pictures he had put there.

On the right was a wedding picture, a formal one of himself and Lucille standing together, looking happier than anyone had a right to look. The one on the left was a candid photo of Lucille's face, looking up at the camera and smiling her winning smile. Jeff drew in a shaky breath then sat down in his chair.

_Lucy, I'm getting old. Soon I'll be gone and who will be left to remember you? To remember your smile, your laugh, the way you used to twirl your hair around your finger when you were deep in thought? Lucy, forgive me for shutting you up in my heart for all these years. Our boys need to remember you, and the only way they will, especially Gordon and Alan, is if I talk about you. It won't be easy, dearest, but maybe now I can. I must. For I will not have you forgotten when I am gone._

Kyrano's brunch was extensive and filling. Egg and sausage casserole, dense cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing, Southern style biscuits, fruit salad, grilled steaks, corned beef hash, home fries, waffles, and plenty of fresh brewed coffee.

"Just to tide you over until dinner," the retainer quipped as the Tracy men sat back from the table, most of them groaning from having eaten a bit too much. Virgil headed back out to the lounge to play some of the family's favorite Christmas carols. Grandma took a seat in the lounge and looked at her pianist grandson meaningfully. He pretended not to notice her silent, but frankly apparent appeal. Finally, she coughed. Virgil sighed.

"Is something the matter, Grandma?" he asked in all innocence.

"Yes, there is, Virgil. I haven't had a chance to listen to my grandsons sing. Yet," she beamed at him.

"Okay, Grandma, we get the hint," Gordon said, standing and motioning his brothers to gather around Virgil and the piano. He knew, they all knew very well that the only one among them who had a decent voice and could stay on key was Virgil. The rest of them were hopeless singers other than perhaps singing in the shower. But Grandma didn't seem to think so; she insisted every year that the five of them sing together. And so they did, to their chagrin and the pained face of their father, who was often cajoled to join in.

"What do you want to hear first, Grandma?" Virgil asked.

"I'd love to hear 'Silent Night'," she answered with a smile.

Jeff groaned internally. _This is the one song they really slaughter. Only Virgil can hit anywhere near that high note!_ He sat down at his desk to listen to the caterwauling begin.

Virgil played an introduction, and started the other four off.

"Silent Night, Holy Night. All is calm, all is bright....."

Their singing was interrupted by the emergency signal ringing through the house.

_Saved by the bell!_ Jeff thought.

The family gathered around the desk as Jeff opened communications with Thunderbird Five. The shiny mechanical form of Braman filled the space where John's portrait had been a moment ago.

"Emergency. Protocol. Enabled." Braman said in his mechanical voice. "Relaying. Transmission."

"This is International Rescue, what is your emergency?" John asked, sitting down at Jeff's desk. It had been decided that since he was the expert in languages and communications, John would be the one to answer any call relayed over the holidays.

A burst of frenzied speaking in a female voice came over the airwaves. John began to make notes, and then answered in the same tongue as the caller spoke. The conversation went back and forth for several minutes, John writing furiously, getting down all the details. Jeff stood behind him, watching his son do his job, fascinated by the ease with which John conversed with the woman on the other end. John's voice soothed her, and by the time the dialogue was finished, she seemed to be calmer and even sounded hopeful. John signed off and turned to his father and siblings.

"An apartment fire in Southern China. The building is fourteen stories and there are people trapped on the top floor. The locals are trying their best, but they just don't have the equipment to get to anyone higher than ten stories up."

"No, no, no! Not on Christmas. I asked for no rescues on Christmas!" Scott groaned. Gordon gave him a puzzled look.

"Well, you didn't get your Christmas wish this year, Scott." Gordon said in a sympathetic tone.

"Do you have the coordinates?" Jeff asked. John nodded.

Jeff took a deep breath. _Now is the time. They are not going to like this, not at all. But I want... I NEED to do this....._

"Okay, John. Give Alan the coordinates. Alan, you're taking Thunderbird One." Jeff held up a hand to forestall Scott's loud objections. "Alan, get going."

Alan looked at Jeff, then at Scott, shocked at his father's sudden order.

"Go, Alan!" Jeff shouted. The loud voice broke Alan's paralysis and he hurried over to the wall sconces that marked the entrance to Thunderbird One's hangar. He hesitated, looking to Scott for confirmation. Scott, annoyed, jerked his head toward the wall. Alan nodded slightly and pushed the buttons that made the section of wall turn 180 degrees and deposited him on the sliding ramp to Thunderbird One's cockpit. _Boy, wish I could be a fly on the wall in the lounge right now,_ he thought as he entered the rocket plane.

"Dad, what's going on?" Scott asked in a reasonable voice, burying his annoyance. _He's going to go out on this rescue, I just know it! How can I stop him?_

"That's what I'd like to know," Grandma Tracy said, her hands on her hips and a no-nonsense look on her face.

"Well, I'm sure you've all been wondering why I've been working with the simulator lately, getting checked out on the Thunderbirds and the auxiliary equipment. I've been doing it with this goal in mind: it's time I went out on rescues." Jeff said, his heart racing at trying to explain his reasoning to his sons and to the other members of the household.

"Why, Dad? Please tell me why you want to go out on rescues?" Scott asked, a worried look on his face.

"Yes," Grandma demanded, glaring, "and this had better be good!"

Jeff took another deep breath. "Scott, Mother, we don't have time right now to go into my reasons for doing this. There are people who need our help. For now, Scott, you take the desk. Virgil, get Thunderbird Two ready. John and I will double crew with you. We should take the Firefly and the Fire Truck in pod six."

The lounge was silent for a few moments. John, Gordon and Virgil looked back and forth between their father, the commander, and their brother, the field commander. Grandma continued to glare at her son. Kyrano and Tin-Tin exchanged troubled glances, while Brains watched with a concerned look on his face. The rumble of Thunderbird One's departure made the lounge vibrate.

"Virgil!" Jeff barked. "Get Thunderbird Two ready!" Virgil started and moved automatically to the portrait entrance to his Thunderbird. It flipped him up and into the padded transport that would take him to Thunderbird Two's cockpit. His handsome face creased with worry as he thought about the confrontation between his oldest brother and his father. _I hope Scott can convince him to stay home and monitor the situation from the desk._

"Dad, I know you want to go, but this is just too sudden. We all need to be better prepared if you're to go out on a rescue. I think we should leave things at the status quo for now and we'll talk when I get back." Scott urged.

"No, Scott." Jeff said resolutely. "I've made up my mind. John, you're with me. Gordon. If Scott doesn't want the responsibility of the desk, you take it." With that, Jeff crossed the lounge and headed for the passenger elevator to Thunderbird Two. John looked at his brothers, then followed Jeff, as did Scott and Gordon.

Grandma Tracy started to follow, but Kyrano took her arm and whispered in her ear, "Let his sons handle this, Mrs. Tracy. Let them try to make him change his mind." Grandma shot the retainer a doubtful look, but remained in the lounge.

"Dad!" Scott implored, trying to catch up with his father. "You're just not ready to go out on rescues! Please. We need you behind the desk, directing us!" His words fell on deaf ears. Jeff kept going, doing his best to ignore his oldest son. He reached the passenger elevator and stood in the box, waiting for John.

John stood outside the box, looking at his father intently.

"Are you coming? Or should I bring Gordon along?" Jeff asked, testily. "You did say you liked going out on rescues, John."

"I do, Dad. But you know this is... risky at best. You're just not prepared for this, Dad." John replied seriously. "Please, direct us from the desk. We need you there. You do it so much better than Scott does."

Jeff sighed. "Okay, John." John smiled, sure he had gotten through to his father. But his father's expression turned mulish. He reached out and snagged Gordon by the shoulders. "If you don't want to go, I'll take Gordon." He hauled the surprised Gordon into the passenger elevator and pressed the button to take them to Thunderbird Two's cockpit.

John stood there, stupefied and blinking. He turned an incredulous face to Scott. "What just happened here?" he asked, puzzled.

"Dad just left on a rescue," Scott said, shaking his head. "You'd better get down there and make sure the pod is loaded. I'd better get up to the lounge. I just hope that he doesn't get hurt out there today. What a rotten Christmas gift that would be!"

Inside Thunderbird Two, Virgil was going through his preflight checklist when the passenger elevator arrived. He turned, hoping to see Scott and either Gordon or John. Instead, he saw Gordon and... Jeff. He turned around and sighed.

"Are we ready for launch, Virgil?" Jeff asked, taking one of the seats behind his pilot son.

"Almost, Dad. We are waiting on the pod. But...." Virgil began, hoping to get his father to listen to him.

Jeff cut him off. "Check on the pod. Time's awasting."

Virgil sighed. He radioed the lounge. "Base from Thunderbird Two, is the pod ready?"

John's voice came through the speakers. "Thunderbird Two, pod six is ready for pick up."

"FAB," Virgil answered. He toggled the switches that lowered the body of his green Thunderbird over the pod and listened as the two parts became one with the help of powerful magnets. He then threw the switch that began to open the camouflaged door to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

"Thunderbird Two requesting permission to launch." Virgil asked as he guided his ship out through the doorway and onto the airstrip.

"Permission granted. And Virgil, tell Dad that we will discuss this when everyone returns." Scott's displeasure was very evident in his voice.

"FAB, Scott." Virgil didn't bother repeating Scott's message; he knew his father had heard it quite plainly by the "Hmph!" he heard coming from the passenger seat.

Virgil got Thunderbird Two in position on the ramp area and felt it move upward to the specific angle needed for best usage of the cargo carrier's thrusters. He felt the familiar rumble as the engines came to life, and his pride and joy lifted off, the g-forces pushing him back into his pilot's chair. He risked a glance back at his passengers. Gordon had his eyes closed; he looked totally miserable. But Jeff had a delighted smile on his face. He locked eyes with Virgil and gave him a wink.

Virgil groaned inwardly. _Bad enough that we have a rescue on Christmas. But the fireworks that there'll be when we get home...! This is shaping up to be the worst Christmas ever!_

"Where is your father?" Grandma demanded as Scott barreled into the lounge. He pushed past her with a mumbled, " 'Scuse me, Gramma" and sat down behind the desk. Virgil's voice came over the airwaves.

"Thunderbird Two requesting permission to launch."

"Permission granted. And Virgil, tell Dad that we will discuss this when everyone returns," Scott replied, making his displeasure at the situation known in every syllable.

John arrived back in the lounge, having seen Thunderbird Two trundle out to the airstrip. "I got the pod ready. They should have everything they need."

"Thanks, John," Scott said, sighing deeply. He looked up to see Grandma standing in front of the desk, arms folded, and one of her "I will not budge until I know what's going on" looks on her face.

"NOW will you tell me what just went on? Where is your father?" Grandma asked.

"He's in Thunderbird Two, going out on a rescue," Scott stated plainly.

"Why?"

"Grandma, I wish I knew for sure." Scott came out from behind the desk and sat her down next to him on a couch. "We've been trying to get him to change his mind about this, but we haven't been too successful at it."

"How long have you known he was going to do this? And why in heaven's name didn't you let me know what was going on?" Grandma's voice went from angry to indignant.

John sat down on the other side of his grandmother. "Grandma, we didn't know for sure until today that this was his plan. But we've suspected it for a few weeks now."

Scott nodded, "And we didn't let you know, because.... well, because...."

"You should have let me know. I would have taken care of the situation right away!" Grandma complained.

"Grandma, like John said, we didn't know for sure what his plans were," Scott reasoned. "And besides, what would you have done if we told you our suspicions?"

"I would have told him to put aside this foolish nonsense and focus on what he does best!" she exclaimed.

"And what would Dad have done once you told him that, Grandma?" John asked quietly, looking at her face. A face that quickly flamed pink as she thought through the implications of her proposed actions.

"I see your point, boys. Your father is just as stubborn as I am. He would have dug in his heels and done what he wanted anyway," she grumbled. "You'd think that the man would listen to his mother....."

John chuckled at his grandmother's last comment, and Scott looked away so she couldn't see his broad smile.

"The boys h-have been working hard to, uh, try and g-get Mr. Tracy to change his mind on his own," Brains explained.

"Yes, Mrs. Tracy. We all thought it was the only way to stop Mr. Tracy from going out on rescues." Tin-Tin added. Then she looked down. "The problem is, our strategy hasn't worked."

"We were even hoping that doing the run up to Thunderbird Five would satisfy his itch for adventure." Scott shook his head ruefully. "Guess it didn't."

"Well, now you know what he wants to do. And what we need to do is find out a way to stop him so that he won't go out again." Grandma Tracy looked at her grandsons, Brains, Tin-Tin, and Kyrano in turn. "I'll give it some thought while this rescue is going on. Scott, you'd better take your place behind the desk. Alan will be calling soon."

"Yes, ma'am." Scott kissed her weathered cheek and strode over to the desk, sitting in his father's chair behind it.

Alan found it easy to set up the new Mobile Control unit in the playground next to the burning building. The local fire fighters were doing their best to keep the flames from spreading to the whole building, but Alan could see that it was a losing battle. He could also see the figures of those stranded on the top floor, looking out of the windows down at the end of the building where the fire had not made too much of an inroad.

_Just enough flame to keep them pinned up there, but not enough to hurt them. Yet. These "modern" Chinese buildings. They compartmentalize to keep out the fire, but this time they sealed in the residents._ He shook his blond head. The fire chief spoke broken English, and Alan tried hard to understand him and be understood by him.

"Thunderbird One to base. I have Mobile Control set up and am waiting for the arrival of Thunderbird Two. I hope that John gets here soon; I could use the translation help." _And I hope I can use the new features on this unit correctly. Talk about on the job training!_

"International Rescue base to Mobile Control. Sorry, Alan, but John got left behind this time." Scott's voice and picture showed his frustration with the way that the rescue was already going. "See if you can find someone who speaks English well enoughto give you a hand. Or else keep your telecomm link open and John can translate from that for you."

"FAB, base. Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control. What is your ETA?"

Virgil had been pushing his green machine to the limit. "Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control. ETA, 40 minutes." All three of the Tracy men had changed into their uniforms. Virgil had been surprised to see that his father had put one of his own uniforms, complete with gold sash, into the crew quarters of Thunderbird Two. _He's been planning this for a while,_ Virgil realized, groaning internally.

Gordon still looked miserable. He felt that his father had put him in the hot seat by dragging him along on this rescue. _Now I'm the one who'll have to keep track of him, keep him from doing anything rash._

Jeff sat upright in the passenger seat, steeling himself for the rescue. _I have no idea what we're going into here. The boys have done these types of rescues before, but I haven't. And up till now, I've had no idea what Scott would direct the boys to do out at the danger zone._ He clenched his fists on his knees._ Just don't flub it, Tracy. Keep your head and do as you're told._

His telecomm beeped, and he activated it. The face of a very annoyed Scott stared back at him.

"Yes, Scott?"

"I just wanted to remind you, Father, that in the field, Alan is the commander. Virgil and Gordon will take their cues from him and so should you. Since you left me in charge, that puts me over him as he is over you in the command hierarchy. We'll be listening to the rescue very closely, so please don't take any unnecessary risks."

"FAB, Scott. I'll be careful." Jeff signed off. _That's irony for you. I didn't even think about who would be in charge here when I sent Alan out in Thunderbird One. So I get to take orders from my youngest son, eh? That will be a novel experience._

Scott was busy telling Alan the same thing. "Remember, Alan. Today, you're field commander. You're going to have to put aside the fact that it's Dad out there and treat him as you would treat Virgil or Gordon. I've reminded him who is boss out there. Hopefully he'll take my words to heart."

Alan's eyes were wide at the thought of bossing around his father, but he nodded in understanding. "Will do, Scott."

The rest of the trip in Thunderbird Two was made in tense silence, each man occupied by his own thoughts. About 15 minutes from the danger zone, Gordon tugged on his father's sleeve. "We'd better get our fire resistant suits on." He headed back to the lockers where the various specialized protective gear was kept. Jeff followed him, realizing as he did that none of said gear was fitted for him. Gordon realized this, too, and took an opportunity to look his father up and down critically.

"I guess you'll have to wear Scott's gear, Dad. John is too tall and slim for his stuff to fit you, and Alan is too short. Virgil will need his own." Gordon pulled a fire resistant suit from a hanger marked, "Scott" and handed it over to Jeff. He pulled his own outfit from the rack and headed for the crew quarters to change. Jeff followed. He watched as Gordon stripped down to his t-shirt and shorts, then put the heat resistant suit on. Jeff did the same but had trouble with the length of the pant legs and sleeves, and the depth of the crotch._ I had no idea that Scott was so different from me in build; he doesn't look that different. Now I find he has a shorter torso and longer legs and arms than I have. I'll have to make sure that we order some of each kind of gear that will fit me properly. He pulled on the footwear. At least the boots fit. Almost._

Jeff and Gordon returned to the cockpit to find Virgil had landed at the coordinates Alan had suggested.

"I'll get suited up and join you two in the pod," Virgil said, moving out of his pilot's seat.

"FAB," Gordon said, heading back towards the equipment. Jeff looked from one son to another, and decided to follow Gordon. They left the cockpit and headed back to the laboratory, taking the two-man lift down and gaining access to the pod through what would become the ground level door. A moment or two later, Virgil joined them. He opened up a locked cabinet at eye level, exposing a complex keypad. With practiced ease, he keyed in a code and a green button lit up. There was a loud "thunk" as the electromagnets that held the pod fast released their hold. Jeff watched as Virgil's lips moved silently, counting off the seconds it would take for the body of Thunderbird Two to rise to its maximum height. Jeff looked over at the keypad to see a red button turn green.

"Let's go," Virgil said, running down the short flight of steps and opening the access door to the outside. The three men ran to Mobile Control. Jeff found himself at the rear, his younger sons sprinting ahead, much faster than he was._ I'm in good shape for a man in his late fifties, but they are in good shape for men in their twenties! I hope I can keep up!_

Alan had already started speaking by the time Jeff pulled up to Mobile Control. "According to the fire chief, the fire started on the fifth floor on the end of the building farthest from where the victims are now. The building is meant to seal itself off floor by floor in case of fire, and it did exactly that. The people on the lower floors got out without a problem, as did the rest of the building. But somehow, the fourteenth floor was sealed off prematurely. There's no roof access from anywhere inside or outside the building, and the fire has just about reached that floor on the far end from where the trapped people are."

"Can we cut a hole in the roof and take the victims out that way?" Jeff asked.

"It depends on how the building seals off." Alan tried to think of a moniker to use for his father. "A hole cut in the ceiling might act like a chimney and draw the fire up towards the victims." He glanced over at the building, and gave the roof a long look. "Plus, if we go in through the roof, we've got a ceiling to cut through as well."

"Then how are we going to get these people out?" Gordon asked.

"How many are there?" Virgil queried.

Alan shook his head. "The fire chief has no real idea of how many there are. The apartment complex managers have been as helpful as possible, and the fact that it's just another day here in China means that lots of people have gone to work and the children are in school. The estimate is about 15 to 20, mostly women and small children. They've all congregated in one apartment at the end of the building."

Virgil took a good look at the building. "The windows are really small. Would the victims be able to get out to, say, climb out into the rescue capsule?"

"We could cut out around one of the windows; make the opening bigger. The oxyhydnite cutters would be good for that." Gordon suggested. "It would mean going down on a harness...."

"Yes, but there's that chimney effect again....." Alan turned to the fire chief, who was trying to follow the conversation.

"How do the floors seal off? Do the windows seal? The stairwells?" Alan tried to ask.

The fire chief's face showed frustration as he tried to answer Alan's question. He said one word, "Wait." and went over to the crowd of people who had gathered to watch. He looked at the faces in the crowd and finally put an arm in and pulled out a Chinese woman. He spoke to her in rapid Mandarin and guided her over to Mobile Control. She spoke to Alan.

"I am Lu Ning. The fire chief asked me to translate for him." Her accented English was very comprehensible.

"Okay, Lunning. I need to know just how the floors seal off in that building. Do the stairwells seal? Are there compartments between parts of the building? Do the windows seal?" Alan asked their new translator who turned and repeated his question. After getting an answer in Mandarin, she turned back to Alan.

"He says that the corridors seal between the stairwells. The stairwells seal off to keep the fire from going upwards. The windows do not seal."

"Okay. Thank you. That means no problems with the chimney effect. Here's what we're going to do." Alan made a decision. "Virgil, you take Thunderbird Two up and lower Gordon down with the harness. Gordon, take an oxyhydnite cutter and make a larger opening in the wall. Since there are seals between the corridors, there will be less chimney effect. Then we'll use the rescue capsule like an elevator and bring the victims down to the ground a few at a time. Uh... Jeff? Your job is to keep the fire away from Gordon and the rescue capsule. I think using the dicetyline sprayers on the Fire Truck will do the trick. You checked out on the Fire Truck, right?"

"Yes, Alan. I went over all of the auxiliary equipment." Jeff replied with a subdued tone. _He's giving the easy job to the old man._ he thought with disappointment.

"Okay, guys, let's move! Don't forget your helmets!" Alan shouted. Virgil and Gordon turned and ran toward Thunderbird Two. Jeff sighed and followed, running as fast as he could but still falling behind. He opened the access door to the pod and looked around. _Damn! I've got to move the Firefly before I can get the Fire Truck out of here. Well, Tracy. Don't just stand there. Get the lead out!_ He put on his helmet and climbed into the cockpit of the Firefly.

_At least here the controls don't have that "different" appearance like Thunderbird Three's did. I familiarized myself with the actual equipment as well as ran the simulations,_ Jeff mused. He started up the Firefly easily and had his hand on the remote switch that would open the door to the pod when he happened to think, _Virgil is probably bringing Thunderbird Two down over the pod right now._

"Firefly to Thunderbird Two," Jeff called into the communications system on Firefly.

"Thunderbird Two to Firefly, go ahead." Virgil's voice replied.

"Let me know when it's safe to open the pod, Thunderbird Two. I figure that you're going to need to take off before I can open the pod." Jeff explained.

"FAB, Firefly." Virgil responded, having just brought Thunderbird Two back down to ground level. He killed the electromagnetic clamps that would pick up the pod and fired the VTOL rockets that lifted his green machine from the ground. Inside the pod, Jeff heard the firing of the rockets and waited.

"Thunderbird Two to Firefly. All clear. You can open up the pod."

"FAB, Thunderbird Two." Jeff smacked the button that swung the large door down into a ramp, and when it was fully lowered, drove the firefighting vehicle outside. He pulled it well clear of the pod, then jumped out of the cockpit and ran back to climb up into the Fire Truck. This he pulled out even further from the huge green mobile garage. Then he backed the Firefly into its transport, closed up the pod's ramp door, and exited through the ground level access. Breathless from the unaccustomed exertion, he radioed Alan.

"Fire Truck to Mobile Control. Proceeding to rescue zone now."

"FAB, Fire Truck." Alan was concerned about the breathiness of his father's voice. He voiced his concerns to Scott privately.

"He's learning that we do a lot of running around, Alan. Running that he's just not used to, even if he does run on the beach for exercise," Scott replied gruffly. "Maybe he'll see now just how unprepared for rescue work he really is."

Jeff drove the Fire Truck over to the building. The flames had engulfed at least half and were coming closer and closer to the part of the building where the victims were. He looked up to see three or four women leaning out of each tiny window. _They are in such a panic. I hope we can get them all out in time._

He keyed a measurement sequence into the onboard computer. "Now, how far back to I need to be and at what angle do the dicetyline cannons need to be for the maximum height and effectiveness?" he muttered to himself. The computer thought for a moment and spit out an answer. Jeff smiled grimly and set about moving his vehicle to the required distance from the building. Then he set the sprayers at the proper angle. "Here goes!" he said aloud, slapping down the button to start the flow of Brains' miracle fire extinguishing foam.

The foam shot out of the cannons under high pressure, and Jeff was pleased to find that the stream hit the thirteenth floor, breaking the windows and smothering the fire within. He played the blasters over the floor beneath the victims, keeping the fire at bay just below them. Little by little, he inched the sprayers down, catching the fire on the lower floors and extinguishing it. Then he swung them upwards again and maintained the fire- free area as Thunderbird Two hovered over the building and Gordon was lowered on a safety harness, oxyhydnite tanks strapped to his back and cutter in hand.

_How is he going to communicate with them?_ Jeff wondered. _Having heard everything going on during that last rescue back at base, I feel like I'm in the dark out here with just Alan or Virgil to talk to._

Gordon had wondered about the communication problem, too. Unlike John, he was not the master of several languages and he most certainly did not speak fluent Mandarin.

"Find someone who speaks English," Alan had counseled. Gordon didn't think much of that idea, but he realized his own shortcomings in this area. _I'll find myself an interpreter._ He sighed. _There wouldn't be a communication problem if John had come along in my stead. Why did Dad have to get all stubborn like that?_

"Mobile Control to Fire Truck, how's the dicetyline level doing?" Alan asked. Jeff turned his attention to the tank levels. His eyebrows rose when he saw how much of the stuff he had already used.

"Fire Truck to Mobile Control. I've used about 50 percent of the available dicetyline," Jeff responded.

"Let me know when you've get down to 25 percent, Fire Truck." Alan found it easier to use this form of address than to call his father "Dad" or "Jeff". "I'll see what I can do to get some more out to you at that point."

"FAB, Mobile Control." Jeff's attention was claimed by the sight of Gordon beginning to cut into the wall around one of the small windows.

Gordon rested one foot on the edge outside the window farthest from the fire, but let his harness take most of his weight. The women inside the apartment crowded around the window, those who could reach out shoving imploring hands to him, and one even grabbing his boot. The sight was so heart-rending that Gordon closed his eyes for a second to steel himself, to bring out the professional rescuer.

"Does anyone here speak English? English?" he shouted above the voices crying inside the apartment. "I need someone who speaks English!"

The crowd of women at the window began to draw back and allow two figures to approach the window. They were both girls, one about twelve, Gordon guessed, and the other around nine or ten.

"We speak English!" the younger of them said between coughs, shocking Gordon by her very American accent.

"Both of you?"

"Yes," said the older girl, whose speech was colored by a bit of Chinese accent. She was coughing too from the smoke that had been plaguing the women in this last apartment.

"Okay! What are your names?" Gordon asked, leaning in as close as he could and smiling at them.

"I'm Catherine and this is my sister, Megan," the older girl informed him. Again, Gordon was surprised by the English names.

"Nice to meet you, Catherine and Megan. I need your help. I don't speak any Mandarin, and I'm hoping you two can interpret for me. Will you help?" Gordon asked, a serious look on his face.

"Yes, we can help you. Megan's Mandarin is much better than mine, but there are ladies here who also speak Cantonese and I can help you with that," Catherine said, nodding her head.

"Very good. Here is the plan. I'm going to cut a big hole out of this wall so you folks can get out easier. Then I'm going to go back up to the ship up there," he pointed at Thunderbird Two and the girls both leaned out of the window to see it, "and send down a box like an elevator car. There's only room for four in the box, so children and pregnant women have to go first. We will get everyone out if no one panics and everyone waits their turn. Please tell the others who are with you what I just said." Gordon thought for a moment. "And please get a count for me of how many are in there. Women and children separately."

The two girls turned to the small crowd behind them and each spoke in turn. While Megan was speaking, Catherine took a count of how many people there were. Then the two girls turned to Gordon, who was already working on enlarging the exit.

"There are fifteen children and seven adults!" Catherine yelled to him. She oohed as she saw the oxyhydnite cutter in action. Gordon stopped long enough to shout, "Thanks!" over the sound of the cutter and to wave her back away from the window.

Jeff watched Gordon's progress from the Fire Truck, glancing up at him from time to time, then glancing down at his instruments and making sure that the dicetyline was still doing its job. The fire seemed to be contained and the local crews were making headway over at the other end of the building.

Still, Jeff knew better than to relax his vigilance. So many times rescues had seemed to be going along well and then something terrible would happen that would send everything and everyone into chaos. Those were the times that his stomach would tie into knots and he would have his head in his hands, racking his brains to think of something, anything that he could offer as a solution to the problem. Or those were the times when communication was cut off and he could do nothing at all to help his sons, nothing except wait for John or Alan to reestablish contact with Scott and try to keep the space monitor focused and hopeful when he himself was neither.

_Why did I think that going out on a rescue would be any different? The only difference I see so far is that I have the work of the rescue to distract me._ Thinking that, he looked down at his dicetyline supply. _Just about down to 75 percent depletion. Better let Alan know._

"Fire Truck to Mobile Control. I have 25 percent dicetyline left. Three out of four tanks are empty. If you can get some more out here, Alan, I'd be obliged. I'll need it to clear the way for the rescue capsule, at least on the first trip down." Jeff radioed.

"FAB, Fire Truck. Stand by." Alan keyed in a command that locked the keyboard and readouts of Mobile Control, and would lock the actual computer panels when he closed them. An alarm was automatically set in case anyone touched the device or tried to photograph it. The code also transferred command of Mobile Control to a remote device that Alan then took with him as he ran for the pod. Once he was ready to resume his station, he would key an access code into the remote and everything would unlock itself. This was one of Brains' innovations that was being field tested to see if it was efficient and closed the unit securely.

He opened the locked access hatch with his own code and disappeared inside. Using an automatic winch on a block and tackle that he hung from the observation catwalk that ran down the middle of the pod near the roof, he maneuvered four barrels of dicetyline onto the the Firefly, using netting to hold them securely in place. Then he opened up the pod and drove down to the Fire Truck.

Jeff put the sprayer on automatic and jumped out of the cab to help Alan wrestle the barrels full of the fire extinguisher up onto the Fire Truck. They removed the empty tanks, substituting the full barrels for the ones that were depleted. Then the two manhandled the empty tanks onto the Firefly and covered them with netting for transport back to the pod.

They had just about finished the job when from behind them came a loud CRASH! and the tinkle of broken glass. Both turned, their hearts in their throats, but they sighed in unison when they realized that the noise was caused by the piece of wall that Gordon had finished cutting through and had pulled away from the building to smash on the empty ground below.

Jeff grinned at Alan. "That sure scared me!" he shouted over the roar of Thunderbird Two's jets.

Alan nodded and grinned back, yelling, "Me, too!"

"I'd better get back to it. Thanks, Alan!" Jeff waved back at his youngest as he jogged over to the Fire Truck and climbed back into the cab.

The rest of the rescue was boring by comparison. Jeff continued to keep the blaze at bay with the dicetyline while Gordon manned the winch that brought the rescue capsule up and down, taking the trapped women and children to the safety of the ground below. Looking out, Gordon saw his two young interpreters run over to a pair of adults who had a small boy with them; a Caucasian man and Lu Ning. The two girls were enveloped in the arms of the couple, then the girls said something to their parents, and the five of them began to wave in Gordon's general direction. He waved back, certain they couldn't really see him in the bowels of Thunderbird Two, but greeting them anyway.

Back at the unlocked Mobile Control, Alan called into his microphone, "Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two and Fire Truck. All victims rescued and accounted for. Stand down. Time: 16:27. Time elapsed: 2 hours, 32 minutes."

Back at base, Scott blew out some air. "Good job, everyone. Pack it up and come on home." He turned to John, who had been sitting on the couch listening to the whole thing. They looked at each other, despair in their eyes. John spoke first.

"After this, we'll never get him to change his mind. Everything went so smoothly."

"Too smoothly, John," Scott said, shaking his head. "At least this was a fire rescue and he was wearing the appropriate gear. No one could see who he was."

John sighed. "True. But we're not always going to be so lucky. Someone, sometime, is going to recognize him. Or something will go horribly wrong and he'll get hurt. Or... killed." He jumped up from his seat and began to pace. "We have to convince him not to go out!"

Scott put a hand on John's shoulder. "I think it's time to do what Kyrano suggested. Lay out our concerns to Dad. Let him see that we understand what he wants to do and maybe even why. But the risks are too great."

John nodded. "When everyone gets back and is cleaned up. After the debriefing."

"Sure, after the debriefing."


	13. Chapter 12 Comes The Revolution

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 12--Comes The Revolution**

"Scott, please! Sit down!"

Scott stood steadfastly, staring at Jeff with resolute look in his eyes. Then he sighed heavily and walked back to his chair.

The debriefing was long over, Alan's perfunctory recital of the rescue's elements almost forgotten in the heated discussion that followed. Each of the Tracy sons had a comment, a reason, an objection to their father continuing to go out on rescues. And to each comment, reason, and objection, Jeff had an answer.

Gordon had brought up the security issue. "If you continue to go out on rescues, Dad, eventually someone or other is going to recognize you as Jeff Tracy, multi-billionaire. From there, it's only a short putt to figure out that you are bankrolling International Rescue. Then all of our security precautions are blown!"

He had added. "This first rescue wasn't so worrisome because you were in a heat-resistant suit with a hood. No one could see your face. But that's not going to happen all the time."

"I've been giving that some thought, Gordon. We've been too lax in our personal security as it is," Jeff had replied. "You, Alan, and even John have had your faces out there in the public forum. I think it's time for all of us to use some camouflage. Brains, do you think you could come up with a pair of glasses or a visor or something of the sort that we could use to shield at least part of our faces? They'd have to be easy to see through from the inside, even in darkened conditions, and hard to see through on the outside."

"Dad, there is no way something like that is going to hide Jeff Tracy, famous astronaut! Your dimples alone are world reknowned!" Gordon replied. Jeff kept his gaze on Brains, ignoring Gordon's comment.

Brains nodded slowly. "I-I could try, Mr. T-Tracy," he said softly and with reluctance. Jeff looked at him, startled, then frowned. _He sounds as if he doesn't want to do this. Doesn't he see how necessary it is?_

"What's wrong, Brains? Can't you figure out something that will help us obscure our identities?" Jeff asked, giving the engineer a hard look.

"I-I'm sure I could, Mr. Tracy. It's j-just that, uh, I agree with Gordon. Y-You're too high profile to continue g-going on rescues. A p-pair of fancy glasses isn't going to, uh, hide you for l-long." Brains said with a quiet firmness.

Jeff's eyes narrowed as he looked at Brains sitting ramrod straight in his chair. "No matter your own opinions, Brains, I want you to come up with something along the lines of what I've described. I'm not the only one who needs his face concealed," he said heatedly.

There was a long silence as Jeff and Brains stared at one another. Then Brains nodded slightly.

"Yes, sir." he said clearly.

"Dad, the security issue isn't the only thing that's bothering us," Alan piped up. "Your lack of experience is also a problem." He stood, walking behind the couch he had been sitting on, moving to stand behind Tin-Tin. "Before we went out to rescue the FireFlash, we not only ran the simulations on the various Thunderbirds and the auxiliary craft, but we ran through a lot of rescue scenarios, using the Island as our training ground. Hell, we even went to the ski lodge for a few sessions using the arctic equipment." Alan's voice dropped a bit and got softer. "You haven't had that opportunity. And because of that, we feel like we need to keep a close eye on you. To make sure you're not getting in over your head."

Virgil jumped in. "And when we're looking after you, we're not paying our full attention where it should be, on the rescue and its victims."

Jeff sighed. "Alan, you may have run the simulations and participated in practice rescues, but until you went out on your first job, none of you had any real experience with rescuing people. For me, it will be on-the-job training." Jeff paused, leaning back in his desk chair. "I'm not too happy, Virgil, that you boys think the old man can't handle himself in a pinch and that you have to hold my hand all the time. Eventually, though, as I get more skilled in the various types of rescues, you'll be able to let go of my hand," Jeff said sarcastically.

"And in the meantime, Dad? How would you feel if one of us got hurt looking out for you?" Virgil insisted. "We don't have the time or the energy on a rescue to help you with any 'on the job training'."

Jeff's memory suddenly assaulted him with the image of Virgil in the Thunderbird Two's cockpit after it crash landed due to the _USN Sentinel's_ missile attack. The feelings of fear and dread resurfaced and Jeff found he had no answer to Virgil's question. He was relieved when John jumped in to fill the small silence following Virgil's remark.

"What if you get hurt, Father?" John asked. "You know how often we've been injured, even the point of hospitalization. Now, we can be incognito at a hospital, especially when you're using your clout and pulling the strings to clear floors of patients, getting guards to keep out unwelcome visitors. But where do we take you? What clout do we have to do the same for you? How will we be able to keep the media at bay?" John leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "It's too much of a risk, Father. All the way around."

Jeff's eyes began to dart back and forth from one young person to another. _They are ganging up on me! Did they plan this?_

"I'm sure we can come up with some arrangement in the unlikely event I am injured, John. Let me give it some thought. Though if I keep getting the soft, easy jobs like I did today, there will be no possible chance of injury," Jeff said wryly.

"And what if you are killed, Dad?

Scott asked his question then began to pace the floor. The others in the room watched him intently. "Let's think about that possibility, Dad. International Rescue is your dream. None of us would have ever thought of it. None of us would have ever been able to pull it off like you have. What happens to IR when you die? What happens to that dream?"

He stopped for a moment to look around at each person, his gaze falling finally on his father. "Then there's Tracy Industries. It's as much a dream of yours as IR is. You built it up from scratch. What happens to that when you die? Does it get chopped up into little pieces and each of us gets a share? How is that dream going to live on?"

Scott resumed his movement. "We know you're not going to be around forever. But we're not prepared for the day you... leave us. We'll probably never be fully prepared for that day. Just like you are not fully prepared to go out on rescue. And you need to be fully prepared. Gordon told me that you had to wear my gear because you hadn't thought ahead and ordered some for yourself. Alan was concerned about how winded you got after just a little bit of running around. And what scares us spitless, Dad, is that we know that the chances of you dying before we can all make the preparations to carry on both dreams increase dramatically when you put yourself in the danger of a rescue."

He advanced to the desk to stare at his father frankly, blue eyes meeting blue.

"We lost our mother tragically and unexpectedly. We don't want to lose you that way, too. Not if we can do anything about it."

It was at this point that Jeff commanded Scott to sit down. The oldest son crossed his arms and watched impassively as his father stood behind his desk, putting his hands on it flat and leaning forward.

"Believe it or not, Scott, I have thought about some of the issues you raise. I appreciate that you all have been thinking along these lines, too."

Jeff took a deep breath. "This is what I've decided to do. Starting first off in the New Year, one of you will be going off to corporate headquarters each month for a month. I asked John if he would be the first, and he said he would go. This will introduce you all to the overt side of our family business, so when I am gone you'll know what to do to keep the company running smoothly.

"I've also decided that you each need to cross train on each other's vehicles and have more time behind the desk during rescues. This will ensure that no matter who is home at the time, there will be someone to man whatever vehicles we need. And it will give you a feel for commanding this dream of mine. Because when I'm gone, I expect to leave one of you in charge of IR. Tracy Industries can have more than one of you at the helm, but International Rescue cannot. There has to be one ultimate commander and I need to find out which one of you that will be.

"You've all been very patient about matters of the heart. But you're getting older just like I am. It's time you started looking for partners, for wives to love and to have and to hold. Some of these women may eventually become part of IR, some may not. To keep the dream alive we may even have to go out of the family and recruit others to help us.

"But to do all this, the training at corporate headquarters, the cross training, the time you each will need to find your soul mate, even time for the vacations I've gifted you with today, we have to have a certain level of manpower available. And this means I must go out on rescues. You may not like it; in fact, I knew you wouldn't. But it has to be.

I understand your concerns about my safety, and about our security. And I'm going to put my mind to those concerns over the next few days and come up with solutions to address them. In the meantime, things will proceed as I have planned. Cross-training will begin tomorrow and I already have a rotation schedule for manning the desk."

He smiled slightly as he surveyed the silent people in the lounge, most of whom were gawking at him in shell-shocked disbelief.

"I may be getting old, folks. But... I'm not dead yet."

Jeff glanced at his watch. "I know it's late, but I'm hungry for my dinner. Are you ready for us, Kyrano?"

The manservant nodded silently, then left the room. Jeff regarded the other people in the lounge, then followed suit.

A few quiet moments, then Scott broke the silence, blowing out a loud breath. He put his head in his hands, then shook it before sitting up again, hands on his knees.

"Well, that could have gone better."

"We could go on strike." John offered facetiously. Scott chuckled at the suggestion.

"Wouldn't work," Gordon riposted. "He'd have Grandma out there with him."

The image of Grandma Tracy in an IR uniform made Scott chuckle again. Then he sobered and shook his head.

"I've run out of ideas. He's got all his reasons lined up, all his plans. But he won't admit to the one thing I think is really driving this: recapturing his youth." Scott clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. His brothers and Brains began standing up as well, stretching and shaking out their trouser legs. Alan offered Tin-Tin a hand up from the sofa. She smoothed down her dress.

"Do you really think that is still his motivation, Scott?" she asked, falling in step with him as they made their way to the dining room.

"Yes, I do, Tin-Tin," Scott said. He paused, then added. "I don't know why I still think that, especially after this little scene. But I do. His reaction to piloting Thunderbird Three is the biggest indicator of it, I think. He was so happy, so jazzed to do it. I think he was disappointed that this rescue wasn't the adrenaline-pumping type that we seem to have so often." He shook his head. "I'd hate to see what happens when one of those pops up again. Because I think that no matter how hard we try to convince him not to go, he's going to go."

The two shared small, commiserating smiles as they entered the dining room and found their places around the table for their late Christmas dinner.


	14. Chapter 13 Shadow Of The Moon: Part One

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 13--Shadow Of The Moon--part one**

"Scott."

"Yes, Gordon?"

"You just burned off the lighting tray with the laser."

"Uh-oh! Not good."

"Definitely not good. You're lucky it's just the simulator. Or you'd be dead now."

Relations were strained between Jeff and his sons in the days immediately following Christmas. Jeff spent most of his waking hours in the lounge, working almost exclusively on Tracy Industries business, getting his desk cleared for the family's annual New Year's trip to Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward's palatial home in England.

When he wasn't catching up with Tracy Industries, he was thinking about what his sons had said on Christmas Day and trying to come up with those solutions he had promised. He kept coming back to their questions, especially Virgil's and Scott's.

_I'm trying to prepare my sons for my... departure, at least financially and hopefully, emotionally. But if one of them was hurt due to my ineptitude... I could never forgive myself. I have to be better prepared._

Scott and his brothers did maintenance on their Thunderbirds and enjoyed the gifts they had received for Christmas. They also began crosstraining, using the simulators to begin with, and starting with Thunderbird Four, primarily because it was the most different of the Thunderbirds. Everyone in the household looked forward to ringing in the New Year at the big party thrown by their good friend, Lady Penelope, with the help of her irascible butler-chauffeur, Parker.

Just as the usual banter and conversation was returning to the Tracy dinner table, the emergency signal began to beep.

Scott made eye contact with each of his brothers, with Tin-Tin, and with Brains as they all rushed into the lounge. They had not taken the time to discuss what they would do for the next rescue, nor had they made plans to try and keep Jeff from going out with them. Operation: Change of Mind had been unofficially shelved.

John took the chair behind the desk and opened communications with Braman in Thunderbird Five.

"Emergency.Protocol.Activated. Relaying.Transmission."

"This is International Rescue. What is your emergency?" John asked. A voice with a decided Scots' burr came back.

"Aye. International Rescue, I'm Dr. Seamus MacInnes. I'm one o' th' researchers of th' Hygenus Rille science station at Crater Julius Caesar. One o' our atomic batteries has exploded and trapped five o' our residents in a remote section o' th' lava tube. We have lost contact wi' them and dinna have th' equipment to dig or cut our way through t' them. They're all wearin' space suits but th' oxygen won't last forever. Nor will th' heat. Kin ye help us?"

"Crater Julius Caesar? That's near Mare Tranquillitatis, isn't it?" John asked as he wrote furiously.

"Aye. I'll gi' ye the lunar coordinates. We canna estimate how long th' oxygen will last, 'tis a largish section o' th' tube. Wi' no air circulatin' in there, though, 'twill get stale verra soon."

"I have your coordinates, Mr. MacInnes. We'll do our best to get your people out of there. International Rescue out." John cut communications and looked at the crowd surrounding the desk. "You heard it, folks. We have a trip to the moon."

Jeff turned to Brains. "What do you know about this base, Brains?"

"W-Well, late in the twentieth century, studies were done s-simulating moon bases within, uh, lava tubes, with the idea that the l-lava tubes would make a cost effective and sturdy shell for lunar h-habitats. Since the lunar lava tubes are up to twenty times the size of terrestrial lava tubes, and with a much thicker covering, up to 10 meters, it seemed a practical idea. There are several such bases scattered throughout the lunar landscape. I'm not familiar with this particular base, but I'm sure we can get the plans to it." Brains' stutter dried up as he warmed to his subject. "What worries me is the atomic batteries. We'll have to discover what type they used and how old they are. Others may explode at any moment."

"All right, people." Jeff commanded. "Virgil, you have the desk. John, Alan, Scott, and I will take Thunderbird Three...."

"Father!" Scott's strident voice cut in. "This is too dangerous! You are not prepared for such a mission. You don't have a space suit, and though I know you've been to the moon...."

Jeff moved over to stand toe to toe with Scott, his eyes flashing in anger. "You are out of order, Scott. This is one mission I _am_ prepared for. I have the equipment. I have the experience. Now, either stand down or stay behind!"

The two men stared at each other for long moments, the rest of the room stunned into silence. Finally, Virgil moved into the chair behind the desk.

"Gentlemen," he said in a hard voice, so unlike his usual tone that both Jeff and Scott snapped their heads around to stare at him.

"This isn't helping anyone. You all need to get going or those people will die. For now, Father goes. He can pilot Thunderbird Three. What else he does will be up to me since I am in charge here. John, you are in charge of the mission on site." John nodded his head and sat down with Alan on the couch to Thunderbird Three.

Jeff and Scott finally broke apart and sat on opposite sides of the couch, Scott sitting on the arm of the sofa.

Virgil turned to Brains. "What kind of equipment will we need, Brains?"

"U-Use the laser cutters. The, uh, oxyhydnite won't work at that temperature," Brains counseled. John nodded again. "I-I think the small, uh, rocket packs should work. But use them on th-the lowest, uh, setting. The l-lack of gravity there will help carry y-you along."

"Our climbing equipment would be handy as well," John added. "Brains, can you make sure it's aboard, too?"

"FAB," said the scientist, and he left the room to gather the equipment that had been mentioned.

Virgil pressed the button that lowered it down into the bowels of the hangar complex. No one spoke, and both Jeff and Scott maintained their positions of belligerence. John and Alan exchanged glances of concern as they were wheeled along the track to Thunderbird Three's launch silo. The silence between the four men remained as they were lifted up into the lower levels of the rocket ship. Once the sofa clicked into place, Jeff made a beeline for the lift.

As he reached it, he turned to inform his sons, "I'll be using maximum acceleration for the first part of our flight. Better make sure you're strapped in. Alan, you're my copilot."

Alan hurried to join Jeff in the lift. John watched them go, shaking his head.

"It's not going to be easy leading this mission, I can already tell," he commented to Scott. Scott sat in one of the lift-off couches in Thunderbird Three's lounge, arms crossed, face glowering.

"Do me a favor, Scott? Don't buck me during this rescue?" John enjoined, a sour tone to his voice. "I'm going to have my hands full enough with Father."

"I won't buck you, John. You're the man." Scott replied quietly. John rolled his eyes. He knew that quiet, dangerous tone. But he also knew that Scott, once he said he'd do something, would do it. He relaxed a bit and strapped into a lift-off couch.

Alan had watched his father land Thunderbird Three, bringing her safely back to Earth. Now he watched as Jeff prepared to launch that same craft. His father's hands moved skillfully across the control panels, setting up everything just as neatly and as accurately as Alan himself would, doing the prelaunch checks without hesitation.

"Thunderbird Three requesting permission to launch," Jeff requested, his deep voice clipping off the words, still filled with anger.

"Permission granted," was Virgil's terse reply. The hatch to the silo irised open beneath the Round House.

"Commencing countdown. T minus ten seconds." Jeff said as he manipulated the controls. "Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one... liftoff!"

Thunderbird Three's engines fired, straining to push the tall rocket up against the pull of Earth's gravity. Slowly at first, then gaining speed with each passing second, the space craft passed through the guest accommodations and took to the sky.

This time, Jeff felt no elation; though the adrenaline pumped through him, he was still too angry to enjoy himself. _Besides, this isn't a milk run. Lives are depending on us. This is not the time for personal pleasure,_ he thought darkly. He glanced down at his controls.

"Escape velocity in 15 minutes. Moon trajectory course set. Time to Hygenus Rille base, 7 hours, 10 minutes." Jeff intoned, his words reaching both the two men in the lounge below and those in the lounge on Tracy Island.

"FAB, Thunderbird Three. Good luck to you all." Virgil's voice came over the communication speaker. "We'll be in touch as soon as we get some more information about the base itself."

"FAB, base." Alan said calmly. He turned to look at his father. "We have 3 hours of steady acceleration to reach 6 gs. Maybe we should spend the time mapping out our strategy to get these people out of that lava tube."

"Why don't you ask John about that, son? Virgil has named him on-site commander." Jeff reminded Alan. He got up and opened the uniform storage cabinet and pulled out a blue turtleneck and trousers. And a gold sash.

------------------------------

Jeff sat at the pilot's station, fuming. The younger men were below, looking over the information about Hygenus Rille base that Brains had uploaded to Thunderbird Three's computer. There was a map, Jeff had seen briefly, and some information on the atomic batteries. But he had been kicked upstairs as pilot, even though they were at a point where the autopilot would be just as efficient as he was.

_What are they deciding on down there? Am I going to have any part in this rescue at all? Scott is so adamant that I not stir from the Villa and the others are following his lead. He slammed a fist on the console in frustration. I am not a piece of antique crystal that's going to fracture the moment you take it out of the display case! I've proven myself, more than once. And this, this is what I was born to do! Walk on Luna's surface. None of them have ever had that privilege. I am prepared for this! I must do this!_

A niggling little voice in the back of his head asked a question.

_**why?**_

_WHY WHAT?_ his mind shouted at the voice.

_**why must you do this?**_ The voice sounded very much like Kyrano's.

_**your sons don't want to lose you.**_

_"THEY WON'T!_

_**why must you do this?**_

_TO PROVE..._

_**to prove... what?**_

_TO PROVE...._

_**what?**_

_To prove that I'm not getting... old_

_**but you are, you know**_

_I know._

By this time, the internal argument had diverted Jeff's anger and frustration. He sighed, then felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

"Dad?" Alan asked. "John wants you downstairs. We tried to call but you didn't respond."

Jeff moved, shaking his head to clear it. "Sorry, son. I was deep in thought."

Alan smiled wryly, "Yeah, you looked like you were lost in the stars."

Jeff snorted a laugh. Then he raised his arm. "John, I'm on my way down," he informed those below through his telecomm.

"FAB," John replied.

Jeff headed toward the lift. He looked back at Alan. "Coming?"

"No. I'm sitting in as the pilot." Alan explained. Jeff nodded and took the lift down to the lounge.

When he arrived there, Scott and John both looked over at him. He joined them at the small table on which they had spread out the map of the base.

"Hello, Father." John indicated that he should stand next to him. "Scott, Alan, and I have been going over which is the best approach for us to take on this rescue. This is a map of the Hygenus Rille base. It's a huge lava tube, but it's also honeycombed with smaller passages, many of them unmapped. The more we looked at the map and the more information we got from Dr. MacInnes, the more it looked like we would need the most experienced of our cavers on this rescue. That's you and me. Scott will be coming with us, too, while Alan stays in Thunderbird Three and coordinates communications between us and base. The thickness of the walls in the lava tube will probably interfere with our helmet telecomms so we'll use Thunderbird Three as a signal booster to Virgil."

Jeff nodded his head, and looked the map over. "Are we looking for another way into the cavern where the victims are?"

"Yes. Most of the smaller passages have been blocked off to make the part of the lava tube they are using into one large enclosed area. The moon base uses solar power mostly, but has the atomic batteries for when the moon is in phase and they are in darkness. The batteries are kept apart from the primary base for a case like this. The only access is through this passage here." John traced a line on the map from main chamber to a smaller one. "The power crew went down to do maintenance on the batteries, and it seems one of them exploded. The resulting rockfall was very heavy and blocked off the smaller access passage on this end." He indicated the entrance to the place where the batteries were kept. Then he pointed to a line on the map that ran off from the one marking the way to the battery area. "This tube dead ends near the wall to the chamber where the batteries are. Dr. MacInnes thinks it's probably the thinnest part of the wall and we won't have too much trouble cutting through there."

"What about radiation levels?" Scott asked. "Will our suits be able to take them?"

"According to Brains, yes, we'll be able to handle it for as long as we are there. Fortunately for the maintenance crew, the chamber was supplied with air and they're using the new recycling tanks, so they'll have enough air until we get there, but not much more." John explained. He looked at his father and his older brother. "This is going to be a tight one, but we've had worse."

Both men nodded. John gave his father another look. "Father? I want to see your space suit. You did say you had the equipment...."

"Of course, John."

Jeff and John took the lift up two levels to the storage area of Thunderbird Three, one level below the pilot's cockpit. He opened up the space suit locker, and pulled out a white coverall, a pair of gauntlets, boots with a wide tread, and a helmet. John took the garments and looked them over carefully.

"These look new even though they're an old model of space suit. Where did you get this?" John asked, curious.

"I had more than one flight suit when I went to the moon. This was one that I never used. It was still sealed in its airtight packaging when I pulled it out after my trip to Thunderbird Five. I've gone over it carefully and found no leaks or tears. It might as well have been manufactured yesterday," Jeff explained. "I've even tried it on, so I know everything fits. And it works with the new air tanks and power units."

John continued his minute examination of the suit and its accoutrements. He noticed that the only identifying badge on it was an International Rescue logo. "Grandma put this on for you?"

"Yes. She was reluctant, but she did it." Jeff replied

Finally, John nodded and handed the suit back to his father. "It looks sound, if out of fashion," he said wryly. "Looks like you're good to go. Just fasten a radiation tag to it, and I'll have to calibrate the helmet's communications system to the proper frequency. But that's all." John gave his father a long look. "Seems like you came prepared. I'll let Scott know."

Jeff blew out a breath. "Son... John... I'm sorry about this big blowout between your brother and me. I understand some of his reservations about my going out on rescues. Virgil's, too. But this... this is different. Here, I have the training. No one is going to have to 'look after me'. I can pull my own weight."

John nodded slightly. "So it seems. But you and Scott are going to have to clear the air between you. We can't go out there with anger still festering. It will affect our performance. We know that tired people make mistakes. Well, angry ones do too."

The older man nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do." Then he headed to the lift.

John watched him go. He found himself absently slapping one of his father's gauntlets on the palm of his open hand, and stopped, returning the glove to the neatly folded pile of spacesuit. _They are so much alike it's a wonder they haven't come to loggerheads like this more often. But Scott has it right; Dad isn't doing this because it's necessary for IR. He's doing this because he needs to do it. I just wish he'd be honest with himself and with us._ He shook his head. _All the same, I have a bad feeling about this mission. It has started out with conflict, and that can only mean trouble later on._

Jeff found Scott down in the lounge, poring over the map, trying to memorize the features and contours of the area in which they would be working. _Not that it will help much,_ Jeff thought, _Even the most accurate of maps can't compare to the reality of the moon. _He cleared his throat, and Scott looked up, then looked back to the map. Jeff could swear he felt the heat of Scott's anger from where he stood.

"Scott."

Scott did not turn around. "Yes, Father?"

"We need to clear the air." Jeff slowly walked over to the table where the map was spread out and where Scott was perusing the documents, leaning over with his elbows and forearms on the table. When Jeff finally came to the table, Scott flung down the pencil he had been toying with and pushed away from the work surface.

"What's to clear? You're on this mission despite my grave misgivings, despite my deep concerns for your safety and well-being and the safety and well-being of those we came to rescue," Scott said angrily. "It's like you didn't hear a word that any of us said after the apartment fire. You just pulled your rank and came along."

Jeff could feel the slow burn of his own anger returning and hurried to squelch it. "Scott, can you deny that on this mission, I have the experience?"

"No. But that experience was thirty years ago," Scott shot back.

"Still, I know what I'm doing here. As much or better than you or John or Alan. And I have the equipment, even if it's not the latest model or fashion. John just gave my suit a thorough going-over and has okayed it."

"So, you have an old spacesuit. And now you're going to tell me that walking and working on the moon is like riding a bicycle. You never really forget," Scott retorted.

"No, Scott, you don't forget. You never forget. You never forget the exhilaration, the excitement, the shiver down your spine, the feeling that you, unworthy as you are, are walking where giants have walked before you. The sense of vulnerability, knowing that Lady Luna is a harsh mistress and one wrong choice can end your life," Jeff said, moving around the table to face Scott. "You never forget. It gets in your blood and in your bones. And sometimes, when you least expect it, you'll look up at the fat, silvery face of Luna, and you'll relive it. Just as if it were yesterday. And you realize how much you miss it all."

Scott was caught off guard by his father's eloquence. Jeff Tracy was usually a pragmatic man, one not given to poetry or flowery prose. But now the passion in his father's description of his feelings reached out to Scott and struck him. He stood and looked at his father and for a moment, saw a twin to himself, young and vigorous, running on adrenaline and awed by his opportunity. The opportunity of a lifetime. Then he looked again and there was the father he knew, silver-haired, lines, born of sorrow and heavy responsibility, creasing the handsome face.

"I'd forgotten how much going to the moon meant to you, Dad. It's been a while since we've clamored for stories about your moon adventures." Scott said softly, his anger dissipating. _Maybe now he'll own up to why he is suddenly going out on rescues._

"It was something I could have done again and again, Scott, and never lost the wonder of it all." Jeff replied. "But as much as I loved Lady Luna, I loved your mother more. And you. And eventually your brothers, too. So, I left all that. With no regrets."

"And now that I'm going back, it will be different. I won't have time to feel the wonder and awe that I felt before. We are on a mission and my focus has to be there." he continued. "And it will be."

They were both silent for a long minute. Then Scott shook his head.

"I still have misgivings about you going on rescues, Dad. I always will. You are far too valuable to International Rescue, to Tracy Industries, and to us for you to risk your life and limb this way. I still don't see any reason why you should go out on rescues when the rest of us are available." Scott paused. "I don't like it much, but in this case, I have to agree with John that your experience, both on the moon and with caving, makes you a better man for the job than Alan or me." Scott stated flatly. "Just promise me one thing, Dad?"

"What is that, son?"

"That you will be careful and follow John's lead? He might not have the experience you do, but he's our designated field commander and a cautious one at that."

"I promise, Scott." Jeff nodded, then smiled. "If I could follow Alan's directions at that apartment fire, I think I can follow John's here, don't you agree?"

Scott was quiet for a moment, then nodded slightly. Both men were startled to hear Alan's voice come over their telecomms.

"ETA to Hygenus Rille, 30 minutes. Commencing landing procedures."

"I'd better get back up to the control room," Jeff said, heading for the lift. He entered it, then stopped and leaned out. "Have we cleared the air between us, Scott?"

"Yes. I think we have, Dad." Scott replied with a slight smile. "I'll see you in a bit."

"FAB." The lift closed and Jeff was whisked up out of sight.

Scott sighed heavily. _I have a bad feeling about this mission. Very bad. I hope we're not in for some nasty surprises._

_---------------------------_

Jeff set Thunderbird Three down on a landing area several hundred yards from the Hygenus Rille. From that distance, the Rille looked like a low gray ridge, topped with sharp edges, unburnished by the forces of wind and rain. There was a dome-like building perched outside the entrance to the Rille, and from that structure, a lunar vehicle bounced along towards the red rocket. An adjustable gantry automatically moved up to the side of Thunderbird Three, attaching itself to the outer airlock that led to the control room. The members of the rescue team had assembled there, a duffel bag of equipment for each to carry, recirculating air tanks on their backs, helmets under one arm. Jeff listened to John as he gave the team last minute instructions.

"Alan will be here to relay our conversation back to Virgil at base. Dr. MacInnes tells us there is no change; no communication from the repair team, no more explosions, and they are still unable to get through the breakdown to the battery chamber. He is sending out a vehicle to pick us up. We won't need our helmets and air tanks until we get to the danger zone. Everything is enclosed and pressurized around here. We'll leave the airlock, go down in an elevator to a garage where the lunar personnel carrier will meet us and take us to the base proper."

"Hygenus Rille must be a pretty important base to have such amenities like pressurization," Jeff remarked. "Do they have artificial gravity capabilities?"

"I'm told they do inside the buildings but not in the passages between the buildings nor in the base's cavern itself. There's some exciting scientific and engineering development going on here, and it's well funded." John explained.

"Really? What kinds of development?" Scott asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, the engineering side is developing materials to use in the lava tubes on Mars, as Earth starts to build bases there. The scientific end has several projects going, mostly geologic in nature but there are a couple of biochem teams as well. One is working on a new cancer cure, and the other is trying to develop plants that will grow in fortified lunar soil." John said.

Scott nodded. "That would explain the prime funding. And the expensive anti- gravity equipment."

The three men turned as Alan relayed a message.

"Dr. MacInnes says welcome and they're waiting for you down in the personnel carrier."

"Well, here we go. Keep radio contact open, Alan. Virgil, we are exiting Thunderbird Three," John called.

Virgil's face was visible on the plasma screen in front of the pilot's controls. "FAB, John. Good luck, and take care."

Scott opened the inner airlock door and the three men stepped through. It closed behind them. At John's vocal command, sensors on the outside of the airlock determined what kind of atmosphere they were stepping into and compensated, making the air, gravity, and temperature inside the airlock match that of their destination. When the two sides matched, the outer airlock door opened and the trio stepped through. A short passage, and there was an elevator car waiting for them. It started down without a command.

Jeff could feel the difference in gravity; obviously the pressurized air and the relative warmth that filled the inhabitable parts of the gantry were the only concessions to human needs here at the outskirts of the base. He wasn't floating, for the moon does have gravity, but he knew that if he jumped up even just a little, he would go higher than at home and take longer to come back down to the floor.

"It's colder than I expected," Scott remarked as they traveled downwards.

"The temperature is probably just above freezing," Jeff answered. "The reason they use the lava tubes is that the temperature is normally about minus 20 Farenheit in there. No colder than a really cold winter's day in Canada or the northern United States. Survivable for humans, with proper garments and precautions."

"I expect that the actual base will be warmer still," John said as the elevator came to a halt. "Better put on those visors that Brains sent along."

The three men donned visors that traveled from ear to ear in a smooth arc of thin, tinted polyhexane. They could see as well from behind the lenses as they could without, but the upper half of each face was obscured from the above the eyebrows to the midpoint on the nose, on which the glasses rested. They also were already wearing the hoods that came with their space suits, so most of their hair was already hidden, with the exception of John's unruly blond curl.

_It's the best camouflage Brains could come up with on short notice,_ Scott thought. _I hope we can dispense with them once we put our helmets on._

The doors slid open and they were greeted by a short, well-built man with a rim of salt and pepper hair around his smooth pate and a full, salt and pepper beard. He stuck out his hand in John's direction.

"I'm Dr. Seamus MacInnes. Welcome t' Hygenus Rille."

John shook his hand. "You can call me John. This is Scott and Jeff. Let's get our equipment stowed and get moving. There's no time to waste."

"Aye." Dr. MacInnes opened up a cargo hatch and the International rescue operatives stashed their duffels inside, keeping their helmets with them. Then they climbed into the cramped carrier and Dr. MacInnes activated the airlock, and they were heading away from the gantry. Jeff tried looking back at Thunderbird Three through the carrier's small ports, but the angle of the vehicle stopped him from seeing it clearly.

The air in the small cabin was tense. John spoke in low tones with Dr. MacInnes, trying to ascertain if there had been any changes and get more description of the cave terrain they were going to be covering.

"All o' th' tunnels are filled with lunar dust, which ha' been a constant irritant t' us. In th' habitat area, we've been able t' actually vacuum th' stuff out, but no' in th' battery cavern. Tha's why we ha' regular maintenance teams goin' down there. I'm told that's a possible reason for th' explosion." Dr. MacInnes explained. "Th' access tube'll be th' same."

"Thank you, Dr. MacInnes. Are you aware of any drop off's that will require rapelling?" John asked.

"Nay, lad. I've never been down there myself. And if there was such a thing, th' repair crew have nae reported it."

John nodded. _I expected this. We'll have to be prepared for anything. I wish I could shake this ominous feeling._

He called back to Alan on his wrist telecomm. "Alan, we are approaching Hygenus Rille base. I'll contact you again before we enter the access tunnel."

"FAB," came the response.

An airlock slowly opened before them, and Dr. MacInnes drove the personnel carrier straight inside. There was a short wait as the airlock pressurized and then the inner door opened and they entered what looked like an extensive garage. Dr. MacInnes parked the personnel carrier near another set of airlocks and let the operatives out. They grabbed their gear from the storage hold. A slim older Asian woman waited for them by the airlock.

"I'm Mrs. MacInnes. Welcome to Hygenus Rille. I'm to guide you back to the access tunnel immediately while my husband does his maintenance checks on the personnel carrier."

John shook hands with her and introduced the rest of the team as they walked in her wake. Jeff and Scott both looked around with interest at the base.

_This is a lava tube?_ Jeff mused as he saw the huge size of the cavern. _Brains said twenty times bigger than terrestrial lava tubes and he wasn't kidding!_ The huge cavern's roof rose more than a hundred feet over their heads and was covered in small stalactites. The floor was smooth and free of the fine lunar dust that Jeff knew so well. The enormous space was filled with smaller structures, some as tall as four stories. The cavern was filled with air, but the gravity was lunar norm, which was one-sixth the gravity of Earth. Each step propelled them upwards and striding through the cavern was like walking in water or in slow motion. Jeff quickly adopted Mrs. MacInnes's near shuffle and the younger men soon followed suit when they saw their father's example. Thus it was just a few minutes walk to the entrance to the access tunnel.

"Here we are," Mrs. MacInnes said. "We will have medical people here when you indicate you are on your way back."

"Thank you, ma'am," Scott replied. "We'll be sure to let you know the situation."

The trio put down their equipment duffels and donned their helmets. Each man carefully checked the connections of his companions, making sure that the all-important connection between suit and head piece was secure and sealed. John tapped the communications earpiece and spoke into the microphone in his helmet.

"Alan, do you read me?"

"I'm reading you three by five, John. I can boost the signal from this end to base." Alan replied as he manipulated the communication controls. "Okay. Try to talk to base. It will be audio only."

"Virgil, do you read me?" John asked.

Virgil's voice came back, "FAB, John. I'd say we read you at strength three, but it's clear."

"FAB, Virge." He looked at Jeff and Scott. "Are you two reading me?"

"Loud and clear, John." "FAB, John."

"Okay. We're good to go." He picked up his equipment duffel and stepped over to the airlock that Mrs. MacInnes had opened. The three men entered the tiny room and the door closed behind them. They spent the few minutes in the lock making sure that their helmets were lit from within so that their faces could be seen, and strapping high intensity tungsten lights onto their forearms. When the dim light over their heads went from red to green, Scott opened the other door and they stepped out into the darkness, complete and bitterly cold.

_to be continued......._

* * *

Author's note: Information about bases in lunar lava tubes was obtained from: "Evolving Lunar Lava Tube Base Simulations with Integral Instructional Capabilities", a paper presented by Thomas L. Billings, Bryce Walden, and Dr. Jan Dabrowski to the Second Symposium on Lunar Bases and Space Activities of the 21st Century, Houston, TX, April 5-7, 1988. 


	15. Chapter 14 Shadow Of The Moon: Part Two

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 14--Shadow Of The Moon--part two**

"Scott?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"You need to change the way you're walking. You're kicking up a lot of this dust. Watch my feet for a bit. Put your feet down flat and gently. Almost like walking in snowshoes."

"Okay. Oh, yeah! I see the difference now."

"Now we all can see, period," chimed in John.

The fine mineral dust that covered the floor of the passage gradually stopped obscuring the vision of the three IR operatives, swirling instead around their calves and ankles as they walked. John kept his light at the ready, looking for the side tunnel that would lead to the spot where they could cut through to the battery chamber.

"We should be coming up on it soon. It will be on the left hand side."

Jeff and Scott played their lights around the ceiling and walls of the tunnel. It was actually quite spacious, much more so than the lava tube trail down to the waste treatment plant on Tracy Island. The floor was relatively smooth, with few bumps hidden under the dust.

"You could drive a hoverbike down here with little trouble," Scott remarked.

"Sure, Scott, if you wanted your visibility down to zero from the hover jets stirring up the moon dust and the engine clogged by it," John retorted. "Not to mention how high you'd float up and then down and then up and then down.... just like on a carousel horse."

"And then there's this....." John remarked in a different tone as he stopped suddenly. Jeff and Scott pulled up beside him and like him, played their lights around the dark abyss that had opened up at their feet.

"Look at the size of this place," Jeff admired with a low whistle. "It could fit two or three of our power house blocks and still have room to spare."

"Just imagine the kind of lava flow there had to be in order to create a chamber like this," John added, his own eyes wide in awe.

"No thanks. You can keep that vision to yourself," Scott said quickly, shaking his head. "I don't intend to go home and have nightmares about volcanic eruptions on the moon." He continued to play his light around the edges of the passage opening. "Oh, here, look! That was mighty thoughtful of them." His light revealed a metal ladder off to their left.

"And this, too," Jeff stated, shining his light upwards to illuminate a titanium spar sticking out of the wall above them with an old fashioned block and tackle attached to it. Both ends of the very modern rope that was draped over the wheel of the block were coiled up for storage and were attached to a small stalagmite close to the edge of the opening. "They must get out here quite often."

"Excellent. We're set if we have to move any injured up in stretchers. I think I put the antigravity stretcher in your pack, Father," John said, moving towards the ladder.

"That would explain why my pack is so much heavier than either of yours," Jeff quipped, following his son's lead. He held his light steady over the edge of the precipice, lighting John's long trek down the ladder. Then he motioned to Scott and did the same for his oldest son. Both of them shone their lights upward to illuminate their father's trip downward.

As he reached the floor of the chamber, he noticed that John had pulled out the map. It had been folded over to make it smaller and easier to carry and the pertinent part of the chart was on top.

"This chamber isn't even on the map. So the passage to the battery cavern must go from here, probably at this level," John explained as he pored over the chart. "I see a couple of different tunnels leading out. I wonder which one goes on to the danger zone and which one is the one we want?"

"And how can we tell?" Scott asked. "Both will be dead ends."

Jeff looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I know how to tell. We'll use our radiation detectors. When we get to the dead end of the tunnel to the battery chamber, the radiation levels should be higher where the breakdown blocks the way. And in the tunnel we want, the radiation should be either non-existent or should increase near the thinner part of the wall."

"Sounds like a plan, Dad." John nodded inside his helmet. "In order to save time, we should split up. I'll take this passage over here," he said, pointing to a dark indentation nearly directly across from them. "You should take that one over there, Dad." John indicated one to the left of the ladder.

"Where does that leave me?" Scott asked. Both cavers looked back at him.

"Going with whoever you want," John told him.

"Ooohkay. I think I'll go with Dad," he decided, moving to follow his father down the dark tunnel. Both Scott and John pulled radiation detectors from their packs, and powered them up, getting them ready for use. Then with a final wave of the arms that held the lights, the men split up and walked further into the darkness.

Scott held the radiation detector in his left hand and guided his steps down the narrower passage with the light on his right arm. Jeff led the way, flicking his light here and there, taking the measure of the tunnel as they walked.

"Seriously, Dad, what do you and John see in caving? It seems a dull sport to me," Scott asked conversationally.

"Well, Scott, to us it provides as much of a challenge as your rock climbing does to you and Virgil. We use many of the same skills you do, just slightly different equipment. And, if you're going down into a living cave, like Mammoth Caves or Carlsbad, the beauty of it all just takes your breath away. Plus, there's something to be said about being surrounded by the warmth of Mother Earth after spending time in the vast iciness of space." Jeff explained.

Scott kept his eyes on his instrument as he listened to his father's answer. "Ah! I've got a radiation reading now. Are we anywhere near the blockage?"

Jeff left his son, who had stopped in the corridor. He moved down the tunnel a few steps and shone his light around, revealing nothing but more dark tunnel ahead. "No, Scott. We're nowhere near the end of this passage."

He called to his other son. "John, I think we're in the passage we want."

John's voice came back, tinny and low in volume. "Yeah. I found the rockfall. I'm on my way back out. But check your radiation levels. Don't they seem a bit high to you?"

Scott frowned at the scanner in his hand. Jeff came to stand beside him and studied the readings. The two men glanced at each other, concerned looks on their faces.

"Yes, John. The radiation levels are higher than either of us would have expected," Jeff replied.

"Hmm. Alan, do you read me?" John called into his mike.

"FAB. I've been monitoring your communications. I'm already contacting the base to see if there's been another explosion. Be with you in a moment." Alan's faint but clear voice said. John came out into the cavern where the ladder was and headed for the tunnel that Scott and Jeff had taken.

"Bad news, guys. The seismograph at Hygenus Rille registered another explosion about five minutes ago. You've got a lot less time to get those people out of there," Alan said as he returned to speak with his family members.

_I knew this was going to go sour,_ thought John as he hurried to join Scott and Jeff. He saw a bright blue light ahead of him and turning a corner, realized that his father and brother were already cutting their way into the rock of the tunnel wall. He dropped his pack and dug out his own laser cutter and began to cut a horizontal line to meet with both of the vertical lines that the others were cutting.

Back on the Island, Virgil and Gordon listened with growing concern as they heard the news about the new explosion. Virgil paced around, absently trying to deal with his worry through movement.

"Do you think there will be anyone left to rescue?" Gordon asked, looking out a window. His question caused Virgil to stop beside him and shrug.

"I hope so. If there isn't, then those four will be blaming themselves for not moving fast enough to head off an explosion that they didn't even know was going to happen," Virgil remarked. He resumed his pacing back and forth.

Virgil turned and walked over to Brains, who sat in front of the chess board, playing against himself. "Will they be able to take the hit from the higher radiation, Brains?"

Brains sat back and regarded Virgil, concern in the blue eyes behind the blue frames. "I th-think Scott and John will; they are w-wearing IR standard issue, uh, space suits. I'm not so s-sure about your father. I-I have no idea what k-kind of, uh, space suit he's using."

"I do." The three men turned to see Grandma Tracy enter the lounge, wiping her hands on her apron. "He's wearing one that he had left over from his first mission to the moon. It was still in its protective packaging, unused, and looked just as good as it did the day it was made. Jeff asked me to attach an IR logo to it, and I did." She sat down on the couch and patted her hand on the seat as a signal for Gordon to sit next to her. He did, and she took his hand in hers.

"Well, th-that's good news, Mrs., uh, Tracy. The older sp-space suits were made to, uh, withstand large amounts of radiation, s-simply because it took longer to get, uh, anywhere in sp-space at the time. Mr. Tracy should be f- fine," Brains said, relief coloring his tone. Then he frowned. "Wh-What concerns me is this, uh, second explosion. If a second atomic b-battery is bad, there are definite p-problems with all of them. The t-team should move qu-quickly. Another battery could explode a-at any, uh, time." He got up from his chess game and joined the Tracys in the center area of the lounge.

"Not going to finish the game, Brains?" Gordon asked, a small smile on his face.

The engineer shook his head. "N-No. White will checkmate in, uh, three moves."

Virgil sighed as he paced back to the desk. _I wish this rescue was finished and Thunderbird Three was on its way back home._

_------------------------------------------------_

"Are we through?" Scott asked as he turned off his laser cutter. With the hyper-bright lasers gone, the tunnel seemed darker than ever and the efficient tungsten lights seem to do nothing to penetrate the gloom.

"Yes, I think so," John replied. "The radiation levels took a quantum leap around the cuts we just made." He put away his radiation detector. "Okay, now. Put your backs into it!"

The three men lined up on the slab they had just cut and began to push. Scott had his back to the wall, pushing with his legs. Jeff had his shoulder there, bearing down with a sideways push. John had his hands on the rock, his elbows bent so that his helmet was almost touching the cold surface. They felt the rock begin to slide in the direction that they desired.

"C'mon! Give!" Scott ground out between gritted teeth. The large piece of wall scraped alarmingly along; the trio couldn't hear it, but they could feel the shudder beneath them.

They continued to push hard, straining every muscle, until finally the slab fell over. A quiet noise moved through the thin air of the chamber beyond, but a large cloud of moon dust arose and they could feel a distinct thud beneath their feet.

The cavern that held the atomic batteries was lit with a red glow. Scott held up his radiation detector and scowled at the readings it dared to give him.

"This is getting up near the dangerous range, boys. Let's find our people and get them out pronto!"

"Spread out," John commanded. "Holler when you find someone."

Scott went to his left, flashing his light over the walls, the floors. He spared a glance for the large installation to his right. He could see which two batteries, which were adjacent to one another, had blown out. One had blown in his direction, so he followed what should have been the trajectory of the blast with his eye and found a pile of rock... with a gloved hand sticking out from under it.

"I found someone!" he hollered, and within a few minutes, his father was crouching down next to him as he tried to dig the victim from the rubble. Jeff pulled out a medical scanner and pointed it at the form, then looked at it and shook his head.

"She's dead, Scott," Jeff said sadly, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. Scott shook his head violently inside the helmet.

"We were too late." A_ bad sign. I knew this rescue would be trouble._

"We'll never know for sure, Scott. She may have died in the first explosion, before we were even called in."

"I've got a live one over here!" John's voice came through the helmets of the other two men. They left the body beneath the rubble and hurried over to his position. They found him leaning over a man who sat slumped against a wall far from the atomic batteries. Jeff ran the medical scanner over the man's suited form while John attached an oxygen tank to the victim's own air tanks. John motioned for Scott to continue the search.

"He's taken a good sized hit of radiation, but not a fatal one. A mild concussion. Two broken ribs and some internal bruising," Jeff called out as he read off the scanner's readings. He completed the pass down the man's body. "Broken bones in the right foot, torn ligaments in the left. This guy will be in a wheelchair for a while."

John dove into Jeff's equipment duffel and pulled out the antigravity stretcher. Unfolding it, he laid it on the floor. Between the two Tracys, the man was immobilized, covered, strapped in, and the antigravity unit was activated.

"I've got another live one!" Scott shouted, making the two other men wince as his loud voice reverberated in their helmets. John looked over at Jeff.

"I can take the stretcher out of here but I'll need Scott to help me pull it up to the tunnel that will take us back to the base. You triage whoever it is he's found," John ordered.

"FAB. I can stay with them until you get back," Jeff affirmed.

"Scott, as soon as Dad is tending to your victim, come out to the big cavern and help me get the antigravity stretcher up and out of here."

"FAB, John. Be with you in a bit," Scott replied.

John hurried to the side tunnel with the stretcher, and Jeff hefted his equipment pack and went to find Scott.

He found his oldest son kneeling by a woman crumpled on the floor. Her helmet was cracked, and Jeff immediately pulled out some sealant to smear over the small fissure. Scott had attached an oxygen bottle to the woman's air tanks, but had not opened up the valve. Now he did, flooding the woman's helmet with life-saving oxygen. Then he ran for the exit to help John, stirring up the moon dust as he went. Jeff began to run the scanner over her.

_Bad concussion. Broken left forearm. Bruised ribs. Fractured hip. Spleen looks like it might rupture. Bad hit of radiation._ Jeff looked up at the atomic battery housing, the pulsing red light looking as dangerous as the radiation he knew was spewing forth from the damaged power cores. He looked at his indicator tag; still green, still within a safe zone.

_Make it fast, boys. This lady won't last if you don't hurry up!_

Out in the large cavern, John had climbed the ladder, leaving the stretcher down on the chamber's floor, and lowering one end of the rope to Scott. Scott used a belaying device to fashion a sling from the rope, threading the rope through holes in the stretcher that were made for the purpose, creating two loops that would securely hold the man and the gurney as they were pulled up via rope and tackle. While he was waiting for Scott to finish his work, John contacted the base.

"We have at least two injured coming in. One is ready for transport and the other is being triaged," he radioed. "One confirmed fatality."

"Acknowledged. We will have medical personnel standing by."

"John, I'm ready down here," Scott said. John dropped the other end of the long rope down to his brother and they both began to pull. With the lower gravity making their burden seem lighter, the two men were able to bring the stretcher to the top lip of the passage with ease. John pulled the gurney off to one side and released the rope, sending it back down to Scott.

"I'll get this man to the base and be back as soon as I can. Give Dad a hand and look for any more survivors."

"FAB, John." Scott turned back towards the dark tunnel as John hurried the antigravity stretcher along towards the airlock.

Scott found Jeff kneeling beside the woman he had discovered, keeping track of her vital signs with the scanner.

"How is she?" Scott asked.

Jeff looked up at him. "Not good. I hope John returns quickly."

"I'm going to look for any more survivors," Scott said. Jeff nodded inside his helmet and handed him the scanner. He watched as Scott began to circle around the atomic battery housing, gingerly picking his way through the rubble.

A strangled, "Oh God," brought Jeff's head up from watching his charge breathe.

"What is it son?"

"A man. An older man. He's dead. His helmet's all smashed in and his face is covered with radiation burns. He must have caught one of the blasts full in the face."

"There's nothing you can do for him, Scott. Leave him and keep searching."

"You're right." And Jeff saw the figure of his son stand and move on.

By the time John returned with the antigravity stretcher, Scott had made his way back to the first body he had found.

"How many did they say were down here?" Jeff asked as he stood, stretching to get the kinks out of his knees and lower back.

"Five," John replied, strapping the woman in securely. "I found another body over there." He turned and pointed to a far corner to his right. "Let's see. Scott found one dead..."

"Make that two dead,." Scott remarked. "An older male. He was covered in radiation burns."

"Okay, Scott found two dead, I found one. Two injured," John recited. "Looks like everyone is accounted for."

"Good. Let's get out of here. My radiation tag is telling me that I've been here long enough," Jeff said. He activated the stretcher's antigravity unit. The stretcher rose slowly from the floor to waist height, then dropped back down to knee height.

"Catch it!" Scott cried as he jumped for one end. John reacted quickly and grabbed the other end, while Jeff looked at the unit beneath the stretcher proper. He snorted with disgust.

"It's gone. Probably all the moon dust we stirred up. Nasty stuff, always messing up machinery. That's why the denizens of the base vacuumed the stuff out of their main cavern; to keep everything in good working order." Jeff explained.

"Well, with the lower gravity, it won't be a chore to carry her out manually. Between the three of us we can do it. Besides I told the Hygenus Rille people to meet us at the end of the first passage. They should be there soon." John said cheerfully.

Scott shook his head. _Still, it's another bad sign. But at least the rescue's almost over. We'll be back in Thunderbird Three soon and headed home. There's not much else that could go wrong._

The three men made their way to the entrance they had cut, lifting the stretcher over obstacles. As they walked out into the dark tunnel, Jeff, who was at the back of the line stopped. He shone his arm light over his chest near his shoulders, then sighed.

"Boys, I forgot my equipment duffel. I'll go get it and be right back." He turned back towards the doorway. Scott turned to look at him, feeling strangely apprehensive.

John turned around from his position at the head of the stretcher to look back at his father. He felt an uneasy knot in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't explain. "Dad, don't bother. It's okay. Leave it."

Jeff turned to grin at him. "It'll only take a minute. We've got some valuable medical equipment in that pack and I don't want to hear complaints from Brains about losing it." He turned and trotted back into the battery chamber.

Scott and John looked at each other, each surprised to see the same uneasy expression on the other's face.

"Well, we'd better get this lady to the winch and back to the base," Scott said, beginning to turn around. "Dad will catch up soon."

Suddenly there was a flash of red light, and a cloud of moon dust billowed out from the hole they had just left. Scott and John stared at it blankly for a moment until the significance of the event sunk into their minds.

"There's been another explosion!" John, eyes wide with horror, shouted into his microphone. "Dad? Where are you? What happened? Dad? Are you all right?"

Scott's face drained of color. "Oh God, no," he whispered. Then he added his shouts to John's. "Dad? Are you all right? Answer me! DAD!"

_to be continued..................._


	16. Chapter 15 Shadow Of The Moon Part Three

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 15--Shadow of the Moon--part 3**

"Scott!" John's voice halted him in his tracks as he prepared to go to his father's aid.

"What?!" Scott shouted angrily, turning to face his brother. He stopped when he saw how white John's face was behind the helmet's faceplate.

"We still have a victim here. Help me get this woman out to the large cavern. Then, while I'm getting her ready to lift to the base passage, you come back here and find Dad." John's voice was urgent yet calm, a testimony to the many times he had to be there vocally for his brothers during a rescue.

"NO!" Scott shouted, putting down his end of the stretcher. "I have to go to him now!"

"SCOTT!" Now John's voice was angry. "I've given you an order. Don't buck me, help me! Then you can focus your attention on Dad."

Slowly, Scott turned back towards John, his face livid. "If anything happens because I couldn't get to him right away....."

"Scott." John met his glare with a resolute gaze. "He's my father, too. But we have a responsibility here. We take care of that first. You know that's what he would say if it was one of us in there. And we're wasting time arguing! Let's go!"

Scott stared for a moment more, then he picked up his end of the stretcher and the two men hurried into the outer chamber. They placed the gurney on the floor next to the dangling ropes, and John began to build the sling necessary to pull the woman up to the other level. He shot a look at Scott.

"Go. Find him. The Hygenus Rille people should be here any minute."

Scott turned without a word and ran back to the battery cavern, his form obscured by the moon dust he kicked up in his haste.

_Oh, God, let Scott find him... alive,_ John prayed, as he turned his attention to building the sling and contacting the base.

--------------------------

Alan's heart was in his throat. He listened to his brothers screaming for their father. He listened to his brothers argue about their responsibility. He listened to John's terse communication with Hygenus Rille base, telling them they had better move faster to meet him with their own stretcher, that there was one more survivor but a third explosion had caught one of his operatives in the battery chamber.

"John!" he finally called to his brother. "What's going on? Where's Dad and what's his condition?"

"No time, Alan. Scott, where are you? What's your status?" A brief pause. "Scott? Where are you? Come on, Scott! Talk to me!" John called, his voice's timbre indicating his intense concentration.

Not for the first time during this rescue, Alan wished he were there in place of his father.

------------------------------

When John and Scott's shouting was relayed to the lounge, Virgil came to his feet, moving quickly over to Alan's portrait.

"What's going on, Alan? What's happening?" he demanded to know.

"I-I-I'm not sure, Virge. One minute, Dad's gone back to get an equipment duffel, the next Scott and John are hollering for him. Something bad has happened, that's all I know," Alan replied.

"Now they're arguing about going back in. John is reminding Scott about his responsibility to the remaining survivor. Okay, they're taking the woman out and then Scott is going back... yes, he's gone back to try and find Father. John is talking to the people at the base, telling them to hurry. Seems the antigravity stretcher isn't working. Now he's calling for Scott again. Wants him to report." Alan gave a play-by-play of what he could hear from his brothers.

"Virgil!" He turned at the sound of Gordon's voice. Where a minute or two ago, Grandma was comforting Gordon, now Gordon was supporting a pale Grandma, his arms around her.

"I-I'll go g-get some b-brandy," Brains said as he got up and headed towards the kitchen. Virgil sat down on the couch on Grandma's other side, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. Kyrano and Tin-Tin came in from the kitchen, followed by Brains.

Kyrano had a small glass of brandy for Grandma. Virgil took the glass and encouraged his grandmother to sip some, rubbing her back as she did. Gordon got up and spoke quietly to Kyrano and Tin-Tin, bringing them up-to-date as much as he could. Kyrano's face paled, and tears sprang into Tin-Tin's eyes. They both found seats on the couch, holding each other's hands for comfort.

"What news, Alan?" Gordon asked of his younger brother.

Alan shook his head, face bleak. "Nothing new, Gords. Scott hasn't told John anything yet."

------------------------------

Scott ran into the battery chamber, kicking up the dust as he did so. He eyed the battery housing. _The middle one went this time. Where did it blow?_ He looked around the chamber, dismayed to see how much more rubble was on the floor, how much brighter pulsed the red light. He came around the battery housing and found the spot of the blowout, then followed the path the energy must have taken to... there!

John's voice rang in his head. "Scott, where are you? What's your status?" Scott ignored it. "Scott? Where are you? Come on, Scott! Talk to me!"

Scott ran over to the body he saw, half buried by rubble. He began to frantically dig the figure out, throwing bits of rock and cement around willy-nilly. _Come on, Dad. Don't you die on me! We need you!_

He cleared the rock, exposing the white space suit with its old style boots and gauntlets. Jeff was lying face down, so Scott couldn't see inside his helmet. _Where's that med scanner? Gotta find out how badly he's hurt!_ Scott's eyes swept over the area and saw a bit of IR blue just a few yards from his father's head._ The medical pack!_ He virtually crawled over to get the duffel, pulling the scanner from it and crawling back, hyperventilating from sheer panic. He fumbled with the scanner's settings, cursing his clumsiness under his breath. Finally, he got it set up right and waved the scanner over the body then closed his eyes, not daring to look at the readings.

Outside, John could hear the frantic breathing and the muttered curses as Scott was working. "Scott! Where are you! Scott, report! That's an order!" he shouted frantically into his mike. _Damn! Why doesn't he tell me anything! I have to know what's going on!_ John heard another voice in his ear and looked up. Space-suited figures looked down on him from the precipice. _It's about damn time!_ he thought, furious, as he began to pull on the rope, lifting the victim up to the arms of those from Hygenus Rille.

John's stern, worried voice once again came over the internal speakers, but this time Scott didn't even hear him. He opened his eyes and read the scanner's tell-tales. Then breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"He's alive! I've found him and he's alive!" Scott shouted into his microphone. "He's got broken ribs, a broken arm. Some internal bruising. A bad concussion. One of the ribs may have punctured the lung." He noticed the radiation tag on his father's suit; it had flipped up to show over his shoulder. "I've got to get him out now! If I don't he'll get radiation poisoning!"

"Scott, wait for me!" John called, breathless from exertion. "I'm coming with the stretcher in just a minute. The base people are here for the woman. Hang on just a minute more. Don't move him!"

"FAB, John," Scott answered, anxiously. "But please hurry!"

He knelt beside Jeff and put a hand on his father's back. "I'm here, Dad. John is coming. We'll get you out of here."

--------------------------

Alan, relieved beyond measure, relayed the conversation down to base. Virgil paced the floor of the lounge again.

"What do we do with him, Virgil? Stabilize him there at Hygenus Rille? Bring him to Thunderbird 5's medical bay? What?" Alan asked. "I need to know and soon."

_What do we do? Do we risk a compromise of security and let the doctors at Hygenus Rille deal with his injuries? Do we take him on to Thunderbird 5's sick bay? If we had a way to get Brains up there, I'd say do that. But there's no way. Or do we bring Dad straight home? If we did that, and his injuries are too extensive for Brains to handle, we'd at least keep our security in place. From here, he could go to a hospital as Jefferson Tracy, billionaire recluse or whatever. Not as Jeff, International Rescue operative. But the time the trip back takes, even at emergency speed might mean the difference between life and death! _Virgil paced as he thought it over. Finally, he stopped and looked at their engineer.

"Brains, what do you think we should do?" Virgil asked.

Brains, deep in thought, jumped when his name was mentioned.

"E-Excuse me, Virgil, what was your question again?"

"What should we do about Father? Where should we take him to have his injuries attended?"

"Uh, gee, that's a h-hard question, Virgil. I would say let Hygenus Rille d- decontaminate and st-stabilize him and then, uh, bring him home. If there was anything m-more to be done that c-can't be done here, we could t-take him to the, uh, mainland ourselves. But John and, uh, Scott would have to stay r-right with him, and swear anyone wh-who might recognize him to, uh, secrecy."

"Okay, Brains. We'll do it. We may catch hell for it later, but the time it would take to get him back here for treatment worries me," Virgil agreed. He sat down on the couch and asked gently, "Grandma, how are you holding up?"

"I'm better now that I know he's alive. But, land sakes! He sounds like he's in bad shape. I hope John and Scott can get him out of there soon!" Grandma exclaimed. Even though she sounded better, and had a bit of color in her face again, Gordon, who sat next to her and held her hands, could feel them tremble in his. _She's scared. We're all scared. Dad might be alive right now, but that doesn't mean he'll be alive when he gets back to Earth._

Virgil walked over to Alan's portrait. "Alan, tell John and Scott to let the Hygenus Rille people work on Dad there. And once he's stabilized, bring him home."

"FAB, Virgil." Alan replied. As soon as Virgil's face disappeared from his screen, Alan hit the control panel with his hand, hard. _Dammit! I wish I had insisted on going! It's not right that Dad's the one lying in there, possibly dying while I sit here safe as safe can be. I'm expendable; he just isn't!_ He got up and paced the small control room. _Think, Alan! Is there anything you can do to help? What can you do to make things easier for Scott and John and Dad?_

He tried to picture in his mind what was going to happen. _They'll get him on the stretcher. Carry it out to that big cavern. Pull him up to the main passage. Lug him down to the base. The doctors will eval... Wait a minute. No doctor is going to touch him until he's been decontaminated._ He ran back to his communications panel.

"Hygenus Rille from Thunderbird Three. Do you read?"

"Thunderbird Three from Hygenus Rille. We read you. What is your situation?"

"Now, listen and listen good. I need transport from my ship to your base. My da... my fellow operative was hurt and took a good hit of radiation as well. I need to transport fresh uniforms and space suits to replace the contaminated ones for all three of my people as soon as possible. When can you get transport to me?"

"Thunderbird Three, we are aware of the situation vis a vis your fellows. We can get transport to you in fifteen."

"Fifteen? That's great, Hygenus Rille. Many thanks!"

"Not a problem, Thunderbird Three. We owe you one."

Alan's helpless feeling dissipated. He locked the controls and went below to start assembling a duffel with fresh uniforms and spacesuits for his brothers, and a new antigravity stretcher for transporting his father. _Hold on, Dad. I'm coming in to help!_


	17. Chapter 16 In The Still Of The Night

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far! And though I'd like to be able to start every chapter with the name, "Scott", I'm afraid there have to be a couple of exceptions.... this is one of them.

* * *

**Chapter 16--In The Still Of The Night**

_The light pulses red._

_I move slowly._

_Too slowly._

_I must find him!_

_Where is he?_

_I don't see him!_

_Where are you?_

_I can't find you!_

_I see...._

_I see...._

_Rubble._

_A gloved hand sticking out_

_Oh, God, no!_

_No!_

_I tear at the rubble._

_I uncover the body._

_I turn it over._

_The helmet is smashed._

_The face is covered with radiation burns._

_It is his face._

_My father's face._

_I couldn't save him._

_I was too late._

_Too late!_

Scott woke from his nightmare, sitting bolt upright, sweating. He stared into the darkness of his room, comprehending nothing but the scene from the dream. His father, dead in his arms, helmet smashed, face covered with burns.

_But that wasn't him, was it?_

Slowly, reality trickled into his still-waking mind and he realized that it was a dream, a nightmare. He drew his knees up and laid his forearms across them, resting his forehead on his arms, letting his pulse and respiration calm down and return to normal. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out. Then, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, and putting on his dressing gown, he went into his bathroom.

Turning on the light, he rubbed his unshaven face, and splashed it with cold water. His mouth felt foul from the scotch he had consumed earlier at Virgil's suggestion. Scott brushed his teeth and swished his mouth out with mouthwash. Then he padded out into the hall in the direction of the sick room. He met no one along the way; the rest of the Villa seemed to be deeply asleep, worn by nearly three days of care and worry over Jeff.

As he walked, he remembered again the terrible time after they removed Jeff from the battery chamber. Alan's pale face, watching from outside the decontamination chamber while they three endured the cleansing procedures so the doctors could safely treat the injured man Waiting, pacing impatiently while the Hygenus Rille surgeons repaired their father's ribs and punctured lung and set the arm that was broken. The deep concern of the neurologist over the concussion and the angry argument that broke out when John and Scott and Alan all adamantly refused to leave their father in the care of the medical staff there.

He remembered vividly the moment of heart-stopping shock when one of the nurses addressed John as "Mr. Tracy" despite his feature concealing visor. Fortunately, she had carefully chosen a moment when no one else could overhear, and had just wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed his books. She assured them that she would keep his involvement in International Rescue a secret. Scott had to wonder if she could. He and John and Alan all discussed the possibility of someone at Hygenus Rille recognizing their father as Jeff Tracy, lunar pioneer, even after 30 years. "Most of these people would have seen Dad's old Space Agency picture in some moldy textbook or other," Alan scoffed. "They'd be more likely to wonder why billionaire Jeff Tracy was running around with International Rescue."

And then there was the agonizing ride back to Earth. Even though Alan used a short burst of emergency speed, the ride still seemed to take far, far too long. There was the waiting in the small sickbay on Thunderbird Three, beginning the vigil that would continue when they touched down in the launch silo. The pale faces of the various family members and the tears on Tin-Tin's cheeks when they brought Jeff out of the spaceship and into the lounge, using the couch as a stretcher. And the family gathered around the bedside, waiting on Brains' evaluation of Jeff's condition. His verdict: "Unchanged".

The door to the sick room swished open quietly. There was a soft light on next to the bed, enough to let a caregiver see, but not enough to wake a sleeper. The chair was occupied, as Scott knew it would be. This time, Kyrano was sitting there, holding vigil over Jeff's still, abused body. Kyrano turned to Scott and gave him a small smile.

"Any sign of waking?" Scott asked softly.

"No, Mr. Scott. Not yet." Kyrano turned back to gaze at his old friend.

"Brains says that if he doesn't wake by daybreak, we'll have to take him to a hospital. He's been unconscious too long."

Kyrano nodded. "It would be a sad start to the New Year were your father to be taken from the Island."

"Oh yeah. It's New Year's Eve. I'd forgotten. Last day of the year," Scott said, moving over to the window and pulling back the curtain. "Has anyone called Penelope to give her our regrets?"

"Yes, Mr. Scott. Tin-Tin placed the call yesterday and told her Ladyship that we would not be attending her New Year's Eve gala. She sent her love and good wishes to us all and get well wishes especially for your father."

There was silence for a few moments. Scott stared out at the darkness, seeing nothing. Kyrano studied his friend's face, so blank and devoid of expression.

"I am sorry, Mr. Scott, that your entreaties to your father did not sway him. I was sure that they would. I was certain that if he knew your concerns about his safety, he would step back and reconsider his course of action. But I was wrong. He had set himself to this task, and he would not be swayed," said Kyrano softly. "It is something I do not understand."

"Why not? You said you'd gone through something like this once," Scott pointed out, turning from the window.

Kyrano colored as he had before. "Yes. At least I believe I did. It took a very emotional event to make me see my foolishness."

"What happened, if I may ask?" Scott queried.

"I had it in my mind that I would take my wife and child and would move to the rain forest of South America. There, I would use my skills as a botanist to discover new plants and derive new, organic medicines and other useful things from the flora. We would live in a tent, and perhaps later, a small house. My Samani would teach Tin-Tin and take care of our needs. We would learn to live off the land in simplicity." Kyrano smiled at the reminiscence. "It was a foolish dream and one that did not take into account the needs of my wife and child. But I was adamant in my mind that this was our future. I was about to tell my wife about our change of plans and then buy the necessary accoutrements for our journey to the rain forest."

"What stopped you?"

Kyrano sat silent for a moment. Then, very softly, he replied, "The untimely death of my beautiful Samani." He sighed. "In one stroke, I was brought up against harsh and bitter reality. I could not bring my daughter to the rain forest and leave her to raise herself while I followed my selfish dream. So, I quietly dropped it. Once in a while, I still wonder, what if....? But had I gone on and done as I had planned, I would not be here, helping your father maintain and nurture his dream, one that is so much bigger than my own puny imaginings." Kyrano looked up at Scott. "But I still do not understand why your father, a practical and pragmatic man, did not see the logic in remaining at his chosen post."

Scott shook his head as he sat on the edge of his father's bed. "What makes a man divorce his wife of twenty or thirty years to marry a girl who could be his daughter? What makes a man buy a flashy sports car or a fast boat? What makes a man spend his money profligately or make a frenzy of investments or take up gambling? I think it's the fear of getting old, the realization that you're no longer young enough to really fulfill the dreams you have for yourself, the ones you always assumed you'd have time for." He looked over at his father's face. "The fear of getting old."

He smiled a half-hearted smile at Kyrano. "I suppose I should be feeling some of that pressure right now myself. I'm getting older and my dream of a wife and children still needs to be fulfilled. I've always assumed I have enough time for it, that I could put it off for another day. But now, I'm not so sure."

"When you find the right woman, Mr. Scott," Kyrano said. "Then you can fulfill that dream. But your father is right about one thing, you and your brothers need to go away and look for your soul's mate. You will not find her here." He smiled wryly. "At least most of you will not."

Scott chuckled. He squeezed his father's hand gently, then got up and looked out the window again. The sky was brightening with the dawn. He glanced at his father again. _Well, Dad. This is it. Either you wake up today, or we move you to Wellington. And our security may be blown as the world finds out that Jeff Tracy, lunar pioneer, is hospitalized._


	18. Chapter 17 Blues In The Night

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 17--Blues in the Night**

Scott had assumed that the denizens of the Villa were all asleep when he made his way down to the sick room. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"He grinned at me, at us, then trotted back into the room. How could I have stopped him? My hands were full. My stomach was churning. But it all seemed okay. Why would I have stopped him? Then that soundless red flash. The billows of gray moon dust. And I thought: Why didn't I stop him?"

"You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

"True. But I was field commander. I should have insisted."

"I know. Then what happened?"

"Then Scott went after him. I tried to focus on the woman. But all I heard were the muttered curses in my ear. And Scott's panicked breathing. I had no idea what was going on. It seemed to take forever! But finally the Hygenus Rille people showed up. And Scott shouted that Dad was alive. My knees almost buckled at the news. Then he read off the injuries. And I almost lost my lunch. I was field commander, and I failed. My failure almost cost Dad his life."

John lay on the roof, arms behind his head, looking up at the clear night sky and seeing none of the stars that were as familiar to him as his own family. Gordon sat next to him, crosslegged, a night zephyr stirring his copper hair. John had awakened early in the morning and gone to see Jeff, finding that Gordon had the same idea. But Virgil occupied the chair in the sickroom at the time, so after a few minutes of staring bleakly at the pale, sleeping face, Gordon tugged on John's dressing gown sleeve and whispered in his ear, "Let's go. I wanna talk." John let Gordon draw him from the room and guide him to the roof, where the telescope stood unused.

"The rest of it is just a jumble of images. Except for when we were coming back. Seeing Dad lying in Thunderbird Three's little sickbay was... hard. The doctors did a good job, and Scott and I knew that, but he was so still. I never understood how much of a... _force_ he is until then. How much of a personality, a presence he is. How empty things around here are without him sitting at that damned desk!"

John raised himself up on his elbows, looking at Gordon intently. "I've done all the talking. Now what's eating you?"

Gordon drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I was scared. Hell, I'm still scared. We had no idea if Dad would make it back alive. And, John, Grandma was scared. She put on a good front, but I was holding her hands and I knew exactly how frightened she was for Dad. He's her only child. She lives for him. I mean, yeah, she lives for us, too, but not like she does for him. She's always been the strong one. She was the one who picked Dad up after Mom died. He relies on her. But when we heard Dad was so badly hurt, I was scared... for her."

"What do you mean, Gords?"

"I was scared that if Dad died, it would kill her. Not right away, but that she'd lose all hope of living and just kinda... wither away. I couldn't stand to see that happen."

John looked down and shook his head. "None of us could stand it. It will be hard enough when she finally... dies. I can't imagine our household without her." He looked over at Gordon. "It's gonna happen some day."

Gordon closed his eyes, and grimaced. "I know." Then he looked over at John. "Why do you think she's not afraid of growing old the way Dad seems to be?"

John snorted a laugh. "Practice, maybe? I know I really don't remember how she was when she was Dad's age. Maybe she had the same attitude back then that he has now. But she's had a job to do, too, in raising us. Maybe just being needed, having that job to do is what's kept her from feeling old."

"Do you think that this could be part of why Dad is doing what he's doing, John? Maybe he doesn't feel needed? I mean, we can work the desk in his place. He might be feeling outmoded or pushed aside," Gordon theorized. John sat up fully and shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe that's part of it. I do know that recapturing that old feeling of excitement is part of it. Scott's right there." John put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Whatever his motives, we have to find a way to keep this from happening again."

Gordon nodded in agreement. _Time to take Operation: Change of Mind off the shelf._

----------------------------

_**creak**_

_**creak**_

_**creak**_

_I need to get this rocking chair fixed._

Grandma Tracy sat in her favorite rocker, slowly moving back and forth, the chair quietly complaining with each backwards motion.

_I almost lost him. Violently. Suddenly. Almost the way I lost Grant._

The mention of her husband brought the memories of his sudden death flooding to the forefront of her mind. She shuddered, and pushed them back to the recesses from whence they came.

_He'll get better. He'll wake up. He's got a hard head. Just like Grant had._

The vision of her husband's head, banged and bleeding after an accident, swam to the front of her inner eye. She pushed it mercilessly away.

_But when he wakes up, then what? He'll go out and do this again. And again. And again. He's stubborn. Just like his father was._

Memories of her husband and son arguing over that son's future sprang up, with all the harsh words and loud voices that those arguments contained.

_He wouldn't back down then. He won't back down now. Even after this near tragedy. Unless I figure out something that will stop him. But what?_

She closed her eyes and sighed.

_I was so frightened. So scared to be left alone. To be left behind. It's just not right for a mother to outlive her son. Any more than it is for a mother to be taken from her babies._

_The boys have talked to him about their concerns, their fears. Maybe it's time I talk to him about mine. Once he's better. Once he can listen to me again._

_But I was so scared....._

_------------------------------------------_

The wide, covered swing by the poolside rocked back and forth. Alan sat there, one leg drawn up on the swing's seat, arms around it, while the other foot absently pushed the swing back and forth. He was clad in sweat shorts and t-shirt. His blue eyes stared out at the dark, star-spangled pool waters, unseeing.

The patter of bare feet came down the stairs from the Villa and stopped before him.

"Alan?"

He started out of his reverie to look at the person before him. He stopped swinging.

"Tin-Tin."

She moved to sit beside him on the cushioned swing. He looked straight ahead again, his boyish profile obscured by the darkness. Tin-Tin put a hand on his arm.

"What's wrong, Alan?" she asked softly.

There was a moment or two of silence. He started to swing again. Tin-Tin put her feet up out of the way.

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stand to go down to the sick room again just to see him lying there. I came out here to try and work this out of my head so I can sleep," he said flatly.

Another moment of silence. Tin-Tin waited.

"There was nothing I could do. I could hear everything going on. I could see it in my mind's eye. Just like when I'm listening in on a rescue in Thunderbird Five. And I was just as helpless."

More silence.

"I should be the one up there in the sickroom. I should have gone with Scott and John. Scott wanted it that way, but John said I didn't have the caving experience. If I had gone, Dad wouldn't have gotten hurt."

A pause.

"I'm expendable. He's not."

Tin-Tin waited for more. The silence lengthened. Then she spoke.

"Alan. No one knew what to expect from this rescue. There were too many unknown variables. John had to use the people who he knew had the most experience with the situation that they were warned existed. You weren't one of those people. Not this time. But you were there with the experience needed to pick up the pieces afterwards. That's what mattered."

She sat closer and put an arm around him. "You knew how important it was to get your father home quickly and safely. And you did it."

He sighed heavily, then leaned onto her shoulder. Tin-Tin put her other arm around him and held him, sitting in silence with him as the swing gradually stopped and he slept in her arms.

------------------------------------

Virgil sat at the piano in the lounge, in the dark, nursing a glass of bourbon. It was his second, but the desired result, that of forgetful slumber, was still very far away. Kyrano had relieved him of his post in the chair beside the bed, and sent him off to follow the very advice he had given to Scott a few hours before.

_This is all my fault._

He went over in his mind what he and John had discussed about halfway through Thunderbird Three's flight to the moon.

"Virgil, it's going to take three of us on this rescue, I think," John had said. Virgil had seen what was coming a mile away.

"Dad has the caving experience, Virge. Alan doesn't. Since we're not sure what we're going to encounter in the lava tubes, I'd rather have him along."

_Why did I ever agree to it? We'd gone to great lengths to keep him safe, to keep him from risking his neck. And here, when I have the opportunity to continue with the program, I let him go out._

He sipped some more of his drink. _And we ended up with almost the worst possible scenario. The only thing that would have been worse was if he had died._

_And it was all my fault. I was in command._

Virgil splayed his fingers wide and brought them down on the keys, hard; a deep, discordant sound coming from the instrument. Then he kicked back the rest of his drink and went in search of his own bed and sleep.


	19. Chapter 18 Deep Purple

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far! And though I'd like to be able to start every chapter with the name, "Scott", I'm afraid there have to be a couple of exceptions.... this is another of them.

* * *

**Chapter 18--Deep Purple**

_It's so dark._

_It's so quiet._

_No light._

_No sound._

_Can't hear myself breathe._

_Can't feel anything around me._

_Sensory deprivation._

_Again._

_Am I still alive?_

_I must be._

_I'm still thinking._

_Or am I?_

_It's so hard to know._

_Somewhere, at the back of my mind, I think I should be feeling pain._

_But I don't._

_I feel nothing._

_That was such a stupid thing to do, Tracy._

_John told you not to bother._

_You could have killed yourself._

_Maybe you did kill yourself._

_Or maybe you're hanging on the edge._

_The edge of life... and death._

_It's so hard to know._

_If I'm near death, then where is that white light that so many have reported?_

_I could see if it were here._

_The boys have told me they have seen Lucy._

_So where are you, Lucille?_

_I want to see you again._

_Will I see you again?_

_Or is death only darkness?_

_It's so hard to know._

_Wait!_

_What was that?!_

_A flash!_

_Of sound!_

_I can hear breathing._

_My own._

_Another flash!_

_Of... pain._

_I hurt._

_I'm not dead._

_Sorry, Lucy._

_For good or ill,_

_I'm still alive._

_I think._

_It's so hard to know._

_But...._

_It's so dark.................._

Jeff didn't know how long he had been in the darkness, but it began to lift to a grayness, an awareness. He struggled to maintain the awareness, focusing on the pain he felt as a handhold out of the dark. Finally, with an effort, he opened his eyes.

"uhhh"

Scott's head shot around to look at Jeff, just in time to see the blue eyes open to narrow slits.

"Dad!" he said softly, the one word saturated with relief. He moved over close to the bed, close to his father's face.

"Scott?" Jeff whispered, squinting. Kyrano turned the light away from the patient and with the motion, came to Jeff's attention. "K-Kyrano?" Then he groaned. "I hurt."

"Just rest easy, Dad. I'll get Brains down here. He'll want to examine you since you're awake," Scott kept his voice to a soft murmur, brushing back his father's hair, then wishing he hadn't when he saw the obvious wince. He padded softly over to the door, and left the sick room. He called for Brains through his telecomm watch, but there was no answer.

_Probably out like a light._ Scott thought as he ran all the way down to Brains's quarters.

"Brains? Brains! Dad is awake!" he called through the door, pounding on it and pressing the buzzer at the same time. He heard a muffled voice through the barrier, then it swished open, revealing the rumpled and blinking engineer.

"Wh-What's the matter, Scott?" he said around a yawn.

"Dad is awake. You said you wanted to know...."

"Awake! That's good n-news!" Brains exclaimed, brightening. He fetched his dressing gown, donning it as he moved, and the two men hurried to the sickroom. "Why didn't y-you use your, uh, telecomm?" he asked, puzzled.

"I did. Why didn't you answer?" Scott responded

"Oh. I t-took something to help me, uh, sleep." Brains admitted. "Otherwise, I w-wouldn't have slept at all, w-worrying about Mr. T-Tracy."

Scott's mouth made a soundless "oh" as he hustled the engineer along.

--------------------------

Jeff groggily took stock of himself. _Head throbbing, woozy and nauseous, ribs ache, arm aches. Hurts to breathe. What the hell did I do to myself?_ His eyelids were heavy and kept closing on their own.

"Mr. Tracy? Please try and stay awake until Mr. Brains gets here," Kyrano said softly. His gentle voice clamored in Jeff's ears, elicting a groan.

"I-I'll... try," Jeff whispered, opening his eyes a fraction again. The low light hurt his eyes, and he wanted to do nothing more than close his eyes and succumb to the darkness again. _In the dark, I didn't hurt so bad._ His vision was blurry and all he could see of his friend's face was a tan- colored shape, roughly circular, topped by a snowy silver mass.

"Wh-What happened to me?" he asked plaintively.

Kyrano was nonplussed. "Do you not remember the rescue? The explosion?" he asked gently.

"Please don't talk so loud!" Jeff begged. "It makes my head hurt!"

Kyrano's concern grew. _I have seen the symptoms of concussion on the Tracy sons before. But nothing like this. Never have I seen him so confused, so vulnerable before. It frightens me to see him this way. He has always been so energetic, so very sure of himself._

He moved closer to the bed and asked his question again in a very soft voice.

"Rescue? What rescue? I don't go out on rescues." Jeff answered in an aggrieved tone.

Kyrano's eyes opened wide with shock. _He does not even remember the rescue at the apartment house? This is very serious._

He adjusted the light again, hoping to make Jeff more comfortable, murmuring words of encouragement all the while. _He is the strength of this family, the example that all follow. Though I serve him, he has always treated me as a friend, and a brother. I only hope that he will recover and remain the man I know him to be._

The door to the sickroom opened to admit Brains and Scott. Kyrano rose hastily and intercepted them.

"Mr. Scott, will you see if you can keep your father awake while I speak with Mr. Brains? Talk to him very softly; he says that a normal tone hurts his head."

Scott looked askance at the retainer, then nodded. He approached the bed, saying "Hey, Dad" in just above a whisper, while Kyrano pulled Brains out into the hallway.

"He is very confused, Mr. Brains. He does not remember going out on any rescue, not just the one on the moon, but the one in China as well. The light, as low as it is, seems to hurt his eyes and he cannot tolerate noise above a whisper." Kyrano explained. Brains nodded in understanding.

"This is very a-alarming. I'd better, uh, examine him." Brains declared and entered the sick room.

The examination was quick as the light Brains used hurt Jeff's eyes, and he complained of his head aching. When asked who he was and where he was, Jeff answered correctly, but when asked what day it was, he told Brains he didn't know. When Brains asked him how he got there, Jeff just gave him a blank stare. Finally, Brains fetched a hypospray and loaded it with a dose of painkiller.

"Th-This should make you more comfortable, Mr. T-Tracy," he stated as he pressed the injector to the side of Jeff's neck. "I need t-to do a scan of your, uh, brain to see if there are a-any changes from wh-what the Hygenus Rille people reported."

Jeff relaxed as his pain faded into the background. "Hygenus Rille? Isn't that on the moon?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy, it i-is," Brains replied. "I'll bring the scanner in h- here. Please try and, uh, stay a-awake."

"I'll try, Brains." Jeff answered softly, struggling to keep his eyes open. His vision had cleared somewhat and he could make out the faces of those around him if they were close enough.

"Scott, what happened to me?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" Scott responded, looking over at Kyrano who tapped his arm and shook his head.

"I already told Kyrano that I don't remember...." Jeff declared peevishly, his voice rising in volume.

"Shhh. It's okay, Dad. Kyrano and I didn't get a chance to talk so I didn't know that," Scott explained patiently. "What do you remember?"

Jeff closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. It's so hard to know! Everything's all a jumble. A memory flashed across his consciousness. "I remember taking Thunderbird Three up to get Alan."

"Okay, Dad, good. What else do you remember?" Scott queried. Brains came in with the mobile medical scanner and began to set it up.

Again, Jeff tried to concentrate on the scrambled images. "I remember.... driving the Firefly out of the pod." His face took on a puzzled look. "Why would I do that?"

"Don't w-worry right now about why you, uh, did something, Mr. Tracy. Just f-focus on remembering," Brains encouraged.

"All right, Brains," he said, trying to recall more of his recent past. Finally he shook his head. And immediately regretted it. The nausea than he was hoping had passed welled up again and he vomited over the side of the bed. Scott jumped back quickly to escape the bilious mess. Kyrano left the room in search of a mop.

"Don't w-worry, Mr. Tracy. We'll g-get that cleaned up. You just lie back and, uh, k-keep still." Brains pulled out a helmet-like device, and began to fasten it to Jeff's head. The device would scan just the brain. If another part of the body needed scanning, other wraparound peripheral parts would be hooked up to scan that particular area. This meant a pinpoint accurate and clear picture for Brains to analyze.

Brains took a soft foam bolster from the cart and put it under the back of Jeff's neck so he would be comfortable.

"Now, stay st-still and quiet, Mr. Tracy. The s-scan will take about, uh, ten minutes to complete."

Jeff closed his eyes and wished the nausea and the whirling feeling of vertigo would go away. He realized that he had eaten nothing for however long he was in the dark, and that what nourishment he had was solely liquid and taken in via the IV in his hand. He also realized that he had a catheter in place. The result of all of this knowledge, coupled with the loss of memory and not knowing the extent of his injuries, made him feel very helpless and vulnerable. Feelings that he did not like at all.

Scott was surprised to see a drop of moisture slide down from his father's eye into the hair near his temple. It was followed by another, and another.

_Tears?_

Scott turned to Brains. "Brains, tell me. What is he going through?" he asked softly.

"W-Well, Scott, your father has the classic, uh, symptoms of a severe c- category three concussion. Unconsciousness, nausea and v-vomiting, amnesia, light and, uh, sound sensitivity, confusion, h-headache, irritability: these are just some of the symptoms your father has shown since waking up. There are others that m-may or may not show up in the, uh, days and weeks to come."

"Weeks?"

"More like w-weeks and months before h-he is, uh, fully recovered."

"Oh, my God. Weeks and months?" Scott frowned. "Wait a minute. We, my brothers and I, have all had concussions before. Why hasn't it taken as long for us to recover?"

"Well, y-you and your brothers are young; your, uh, age works in y-your favor. P-Plus, it's not certain that it h-hasn't taken you that, uh, long. You all have j-just gone out when y-you are apparently recovered. In reality, your f-full recovery, uh, may have taken j-just as long or longer." Brains explained. "Especially wh-when you've had m-more than one, uh, concussion in a short period of time." He looked over at Jeff. "Th-that has worried me very much. You have a greater chance of br-brain damage or even, uh, death, when you have t-too many concussions."

Brains turned to him, his face solemn, not a trace of stutter in his voice. "Concussions are dangerous business, Scott. I just hope we don't end up sending your father to the hospital over this one." He moved over to the scanner and manipulated some of its controls. Then he removed the helmet from Jeff's head.

"O-Okay, Mr. Tracy. We're d-done here. You close your eyes and, uh, rest now. Rest is the best thing for you. I'll b-be back to check on y-you later."

"FAB," Jeff whispered sleepily. His eyes stayed closed and soon his regular breathing signaled that he was asleep.

Scott helped Brains wheel the scanner into a corner. Brains took the paper readouts he had garnered and a recording of the scanning session with him.

"I can look at th-this down in my, uh, lab," he said as he left.

Kyrano had finished cleaning up the vomit long ago. He spoke quietly to Scott.

"I will tell the rest of the family about your father's awakening at breakfast. Would you like me to send a tray down for you?"

"Yes, thank you, Kyrano." The retainer bowed, and left the sick room.

Scott pulled the straight-backed chair over to the bedside again and sat down, watching his father sleep. He settled back, a ghost of a smile crossing his handsome, stubbled face as he realized the irony of coming full circle to the beginning of his night, and as he thought about the hope he had for his father's recovery.


	20. Chapter 19 Open Your Eyes

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareader Boomercat for the 'oodles' of help she's given me so far! A special thanks to ArtisticRainey for being my sounding board on Virgil's choice of music (no pun intended).

* * *

**Chapter 19--Open Your Eyes**

"Scott, I've been in touch with the Hygenus Rille people again. They say that they've had to evacuate as the other two atomic batteries exploded and there's a good deal of radioactive contamination present." Alan said, looking up from his notes. "It will take some time for them to clean it all up."

Scott nodded. Now that Jeff was seemingly out of danger, the family was trying to return to a more normal schedule. Part of that effort meant conducting the debriefing from the disastrous moon rescue, a task that had been put off as being too difficult with their minds and hearts solely focused on Jeff's injuries.

"Anything else?" Scott asked, looking at each member of the rescue team in turn. There were several who shook their heads and a couple people responded "No."

"Then I'll say that our debrief of the Hygenus Rille rescue is closed," Scott said. He turned to Tin-Tin, who was manning a vid camera, recording the debriefing for Jeff to view later on. "You can turn the cameras off now, Tin-Tin. And thanks for recording it for us."

"You're welcome, Scott. I think that recording each debriefing might be a good idea. I'll speak to your father about it... later, " she said with a wry smile. Scott smiled back. _Man, it feels good to smile again._

The meeting ended, the little group began to disperse. Brains paused at the top of the steps leading out of the lounge. "I-I'm going down to the, uh, sick room to check on M-Mr. Tracy. I'll let you know wh-when he wakens again so some of you can, uh, visit him. But one a-at a time, please."

"Thanks, Brains," John said with a grateful tone. "I'd like to sit with him next."

"I have dibs after John!" Alan called, grinning.

"Then me!" Gordon added. He looked over at Virgil. "Hey, Virgil! When do you want to see Dad?"

Virgil shrugged. "When he's had some rest after you three, I suppose."

_He isn't showing any enthusiasm for the prospect,_ Scott mused. _Something's up._ He watched as his brother made his way to the piano. Virgil shuffled through the sheet music on the rack, looking for something that suited his mood. Unhappy with the selection provided, he opened the bench and began rifling through the books and papers there. He pulled a particular book from the piano bench and thumbed through it. He opened it wide, nodded to himself, and put it in the music rack on the baby grand. Scott settled back to listen to his brother play.

The tune was familiar to him, though he couldn't place it. It was haunting and stark, sounding sad and disjointed all at once. There was a Spanish feel to it, and Scott racked his brain to remember where he had heard it before. There was an angry outburst of sound in the middle, then it returned to the haunting melody again. The piece was long and trailed off at the end, leaving Scott to wonder if it was truly finished. And through the music, he heard Virgil's mood; he heard his sadness and anger.

When the piece was finished, Virgil just sat at the keyboard, his hands in his lap, staring at the music.

"What was that, Virge?"

Virgil sighed. "Adagio from the second movement of _Concierto de Aranjuez_ by Joaquin Rodrigo."

Scott sat up, startled. "I thought that was a guitar piece."

"It was," Virgil said quietly. "I liked it so much that I transcribed it for piano."

Now that Virgil had told him what he had been listening to, Scott could hear the piece in his head with the guitar. He himself played the guitar, but not well enough to attempt such a demanding score. Scott shook his head, amazed again at his brother's versatility and talent.

"Soooo. Why that music?"

"I dunno. I guess it matches the mood here." Virgil rose from the piano bench and went to the thick floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the sea, at the horizon.

"Don't think so, bro. The mood here is sad, yes, but relieved now that Dad has woken up," Scott responded, getting up to join his brother. He stood next to him, looking out at the spectacular view, not looking at Virgil. Virgil looked down and then up again.

"Well, then maybe it's just me."

"Maybe."

The two stood in silence, gazing out. Suddenly, Virgil slammed the window with his fist and leaned to put his forehead on the cool glass.

"It was all my fault."

Scott turned towards his brother. "Your fault?"

Virgil turned toward Scott, his head still on the glass, his face a study of anger and pain.

"Yes. My fault."

Scott waited for a few moments, then asked, "How so?"

Virgil stood away from the glass and stared out again.

"I was in command. John wanted to take Dad and not Alan. I told him to go ahead. I let Dad go."

Scott stood silently for a while, thinking over what his brother had just said, trying to come up with something that would assuage Virgil's sense of guilt.

"You could say that we were all to blame. Me, I didn't insist enough that Dad stay on Earth. John, he asked for Dad to go with him. Alan, he didn't put up enough of a fight about staying behind on Thunderbird Three." He paused. "And you, you were in command. Ultimately you were responsible."

Virgil gave him a deep frown. "That's right. I was in command. It was my fault."

"You could say that. And those things are true. But you're forgetting one small detail."

"What's that?"

"Dad." Scott put his hands in his pockets. "He was the one who went back into that battery room. John told him not to, but, really, he disobeyed orders. His choice. You had nothing to do with that." Scott blew out a breath. "If he hadn't gone back in, he wouldn't have gotten hurt. And that, Virgil, is the bottom line."

"There were lots of things that any or all of us could have done to prevent Dad from getting hurt. Fact is, we didn't know just what was going to happen. You know what they say about hindsight."

Virgil stood silently for a bit, then closed his eyes and scrubbed his hand through his chestnut hair, with the hand ending up on the back of his neck.

"Is all this supposed to make me stop feeling guilty about what happened?" he asked.

Scott shook his head. "No. It's supposed to make you stop beating yourself up over it."

Virgil looked at Scott and hrumphed. Scott smiled slightly.

"You ready to see Dad when he wakes up?"

Virgil nodded. "I'll let the others go first, then give him a break. Visiting with Alan alone will wipe him out."

Scott chortled. "Yeah. But I'm sure that Brains will limit our visits anyway for now."

"Yeah." Virgil turned back towards the piano, giving it a speculative look. Scott followed his brother's gaze.

"Would you play the _Adagio _again for me?" Scott asked. "I'd like to hear your version of it again since I know what I'm listening to."

"Okay." Virgil sat down at his instrument once again, and Scott reclaimed his seat on the sofa to listen, this time with full appreciation of the music and of his brother's talent.

------------------------------------

Jeff woke again, slowly opening his eyes. The low light didn't seem to hurt as much despite the raging headache he had. He blinked a few times, waiting for his vision to clear. It took a moment or two, but when it did, he could clearly see the blond head of his son...

"John."

John put down his electronic notepad, and came close to his father, smiling.

"Hey, Dad," he said, speaking softly. "How do you feel?"

"Like a herd of elephants are marching up and down, playing timpani in my skull," Jeff replied through dry lips. He groaned as pain from his other injuries invaded his senses. "And like their friends and relations are tapdancing over my arm and chest."

John chuckled. "Sounds like it's time for a dose of painkiller. I'll let Brains know you're awake again." He called quietly into his telecomm and in a few moments Brains joined him at the bedside. The engineer-cum-doctor held a hypospray which he applied to Jeff's neck. Once again, the pain receded, and Jeff felt much more coherent and comfortable. Brains checked Jeff's eyes, finding the older man more cooperative this time, and asked a few questions to test Jeff's level of awareness.

"Do you know how you got here, M-Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked.

Jeff closed his eyes and tried to remember. Then he gingerly shook his head and said, "No, Brains, I don't."

"What is the last thing you do remember?"

Jeff's brows knit together as he concentrated on unearthing a recent memory. "There are memories there, in bits and pieces, but I can't put any of them together. I do remember talking to Alan outside somewhere. But that's about all."

Brains patted Jeff's good arm. "Don't w-worry about it. The m-memories will eventually, uh, return. You rest, and if you f-feel sleepy, don't fight it. Right n-now you need all the, uh, rest you can get."

"Okay, Brains." Jeff agreed. "Um, can we raise the head of this bed? And can I get something to drink? Or maybe to eat?"

"S-Sure, Mr. Tracy." Brains responded. John took the control for positioning the bed and raised the head slowly.

"Tell me when to stop, Dad," he requested. He watched his father's face as he manipulated the controls. Finally, Jeff closed his eyes and swallowed.

"That's high enough, son."

Brains had gone for a cup of water and a straw. "Sip this, Mr. T-Tracy. Just sip. Let the w-water rest in your mouth before swallowing."

Jeff heeded his instructions and felt the small sips of water trickle down his dry throat. It felt so very, very good.

Brains put the cup on the bed table, in reach of Jeff's good hand. "Here. Keep sipping. I'll go s-see about getting you some, uh, clear fluids for dinner, Mr. Tracy." He made for the sick room door.

"Brains?" The engineer turned before leaving. Jeff gave him a small smile.

"Thank you."

Brains flushed pink. "Y-You're welcome, uh, Mr. Tracy," he replied as he left the room.

There was quiet in the sick room for a few moments as John sat back in the chair and picked up his notepad. He looked up to see his father watching him.

"What are you doing there, son?"

"Going over my manuscript for my next book. My publisher is getting a bit antsy and wants me to send the new materials along to my editor within the week. Since I'm headed to corporate in the next few days, I want to wrap this up as much as possible so I can focus on my work in New York."

"Hmm... yes. Corporate." Jeff said slowly. "I remember that. I remember asking you to go."

John smiled. "That's good, Dad. But don't push the memory thing. It will come, as Brains has said."

Jeff sighed. "I'll try not to." He looked down at himself. "Do I look as bad as I've been feeling? I never was told what my injuries were, you know."

John put aside the notepad again, and moved closer to Jeff. "I suppose I can tell you," he said, looking into his father's face. "Let's see. You have a broken radius in your left arm, and four ribs were broken along that side: two were merely cracked, but the others were really broken, one in two places. They've been fused to help with the healing. One of the broken ribs put a small puncture in your left lung, not large enough to cause the lung to collapse, but large enough to require surgery. Lots of bruises and abrasions. The worst of your injuries is the concussion. It's pretty severe: you were unconscious for three days."

"Th-Three days!?"

"Ssssh, Dad. Calm down. Yes, three days. Brains was just about to ship you out to a hospital when you woke up." John sat on the edge of the bed and put a comforting hand on his father's shoulder..

"John, how did this happen?" Jeff asked, a bewildered and anxious look on his face. "I'm badly injured. I've had surgery. I've lost three whole days and I don't even know why!" His voice rose, frustration apparent in every word.

"Dad. Calm. Down. I understand how confusing this all is to you. I've gone through it a couple of times myself," John reminded him wryly. "But it's better that you remember on your own." He sighed. "Truth to tell, I wasn't present when it happened. And Scott was first to reach you so I didn't even see the whole of the aftermath. All I did was help get you to safety."

Jeff closed his eyes and shook his head, not caring if it triggered nausea or not. "It is so frustrating to realize that I can't remember something so devastating." He gave John a rueful look. "And what you've told me just makes me even more confused."

"I'm sorry, Dad, I really am. Just be patient. Wait on it. The memories will come back as your head heals."

Jeff sighed heavily. He picked up his water and took a couple of sips, then looked over at John.

"Can you at least tell me what day it is? What time is it?"

John nodded and looked at his watch. "It's 5:45 in the afternoon on New Year's Eve."

Jeff groaned again. "Penny's party." He looked up at John. "I don't suppose any of you will be there?"

"No, Dad. We sent our regrets this year. Penny understood."

"I'm sure she did."

Kyrano came silently into the room, a tray in his hands. He put it on the bed table, moving the table close to Jeff, arranging a napkin at the neck of Jeff's hospital gown, and handing him a spoon.

"Mr. Brains says that you may have some clear fluids for dinner. That means chicken broth and... ahem... jello." He hid a smile at Jeff's expression of disgust. "He says you are to eat them slowly and give them time to settle between spoonfuls."

"Brains knows how much I despise jello," Jeff grumbled. John laughed out loud and Jeff speared him with a withering look. He began to awkwardly spoon up the broth with his good hand, spilling more of it onto the napkin than he got into his mouth.

John watched for a minute.

"Do you want some help, Dad?" he offered.

Jeff looked at him crossly. "No."

He attempted a few more sloppy spoonfuls, then sighed, his shoulders drooping in resignation.

"I guess I could use some help."

John smiled slightly. "Why don't I just hold the bowl closer to your mouth and you can scoop the broth in?"

The two men's eyes met and held for a moment. Then Jeff smiled and said, "I think that might just work, John."

-----------------------------------

"Five." John intoned.

"Four." Gordon added.

"Three." Alan said.

"Two." Virgil declared.

"One." Scott returned.

"Happy New Year!" they cried, raising their glasses. Grandma, Brains, Tin- Tin, and Kyrano joined in as they toasted the new year.

In the sick room, Jeff slept, unaware of the occasion and of the fervent, thankful toasts given in his honor.


	21. Chapter 20 Echoes

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareaders Boomercat and ArtisticRainey for the help they've given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 20--Echoes**

"Scott?" Jeff asked from where he sat in the sick room. "What's this all about?"

It was the second of January. Jeff had made a good deal of progress over New Year's day. Brains removed both the catheter and the IV and helped the older man to get out of bed and walk around for a few painful minutes. Jeff was allowed to shed the hospital gown and put on his regular pajamas. His periods of consciousness increased in number and in length, and he enjoyed a long, natural sleep overnight. The nausea caused by the concussion had largely passed, and Jeff had quickly progressed from clear fluids to bland, soft solids and expected to eat more normal fare later on in the day. Now, he was sitting almost upright, and reading a novel that he hadn't had time for but had wanted to read.

Scott led his brothers into the sick room, grinning from ear to ear. Kyrano came in behind them, carrying something on a tray. Grandma came in and went to stand by Jeff, while Brains and Tin-Tin brought up the rear.

"Surprise!" they all cried. "Happy Birthday!" The group of young men parted, revealing the contents of the tray: an elaborately decorated birthday cake.

"Didn't want you to think we'd forgotten your birthday, Jeff. Turning sixty is a big milestone," Grandma said to him, winking at him and then kissing him on the cheek. He returned the kiss, smiling slightly, then watched as Kyrano cut the cake and distributed it. The group did not sing to him. _Don't want to make me nauseous again,_ he thought, smiling.

Kyrano cut a small piece of cake for him. "I know that you have not had solid food yet, Mr. Tracy, so we will start with just a little," the retainer explained with a grin. Scott had brought in some champagne, and was distributing it to the family members.

"S-Sorry, Mr.Tracy, no, uh, champagne for you," Brains said apologetically. "It will reduce the effectiveness of your, uh, painkiller." He poured some ginger ale into a champagne flute and handed it to Jeff, who looked at it with a dubious eye.

Scott raised his glass.

"To Dad on his sixtieth birthday. May the next sixty years be as wild a ride as the first!"

The others echoed, "To Dad" or "To Mr. Tracy" and proceeded to sip the bubbly wine. Jeff drained his glass of soft drink, and took up a forkful of cake. It was marble cake, his favorite.

"Now for the presents!" Gordon said enthusiastically. "As usual, Dad, you were hard to buy for. After all, what do you get the man who has everything?" The group chuckled at his comment; even Jeff let out a careful snicker.

"Well, we tried to come up with some unusual items, and I think we've succeeded in getting gifts to signify this momentous occasion," Gordon continued. "Here's mine." He handed Jeff a large flat box, gaily decorated with brightly colored fish.

Jeff tore away the paper and carefully opened the package. Inside was a large frame. He turned it over.

"Marvelous, Gordon! You took these yourself?"

The frame was a collage frame of heavy, elegant teakwood. Each frame-within-a-frame had a photograph of the artificial reef with its bright corals and the colorful fish that swam around it. There was even a photo taken at night with some unusual creatures floating past the reef. And there was a picture of Jeff in his scuba gear, looking a sea turtle in the face.

"Yeah, Dad. I took the pictures on our dive and developed them myself. It's just a memento of the occasion," Gordon told him. "I hope you like it."

"I do, Gordon. You've got a lot of skill with those cameras, and in the darkroom it seems."

_.........darkness, no sight, no touch, no sound but my own panicked breathing.........._

"Dad?" Scott asked, bringing Jeff back from the place he had fallen into.

Jeff breathed deeply. "Yes, Scott?"

"Are you okay?" No one could have missed the sudden paling of Jeff's face.

Jeff smiled to put the others at ease. "Yes, Scott, I'm fine. Just a twinge."

"Okay, Dad. If you say so," Scott answered skeptically. His face cleared, then he brought forth his own offering with a grin.

"Virgil said that you could use these." He handed Jeff two boxes.

Jeff opened one box to find a new pair of climbing shoes. The other box contained a short-sleeved shirt and matching shorts, both designed especially for climbing.

"Thank you, Scott! Now I won't have to borrow your gear if I take on the cliff face again," Jeff exclaimed.

"Yeah, Dad. Virge said that your sleeveless t-shirt and bike shorts blew him away!" Alan quipped.

"I guess now I'll look the part, eh, Alan?" Jeff said with a grin, looking Scott in the face. "Thank you, Scott. I appreciate the gift."

_........standing toe-to-toe, looking into angry blue eyes, shouting about his decision........._

"Dad?" Virgil's voice called him back this time. Jeff gave his head a little shake.

"Another tw-twinge, Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked, frowning.

Jeff smiled again. "It's nothing." He looked around at the group. "Who's next?"

Before anyone else could step forward, Virgil held out a small package. He drew in a deep breath before speaking.

"I've wanted to give you this for a long time, Dad. But until this year, until you gave us pictures of Mom, I knew I couldn't. Now is the time, the right time." Virgil said quietly.

Jeff unwrapped the thin square. Inside was a disk recording, made professionally, but Jeff realized it was probably one of a kind. On the label it said simply: _Lucille Tracy's Favorite Songs._ Played by Virgil Grissom Tracy.

Jeff swallowed, fighting back the mistiness in his eyes. He paused a long moment before saying anything, willing his voice to not waver. Finally he told Virgil, "Thank you, son. I will listen to this and cherish it."

_........the tense, harsh voice getting his attention, making him look at his artistic son differently, the terse replies to his radio calls........_

"Jeff? Son?" Grandma looked into the paling face as Jeff took in a sharp breath. "What's the matter?"

Jeff closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then sat up straight.

"I think I'm getting a headache, Mother," he prevaricated. The members of the little group looked at each other, concerned.

"Perhaps we should finish this later, Mr. Tracy," Tin-Tin suggested softly.

Jeff shook his head. "No, I'll be okay. We can continue." He gave them a wan smile. "Who's next?"

John and Alan stepped up together with a large box. "We both worked on this, Dad, with Tin-Tin's help. It wasn't easy to track down some of the elements, but... well... we hope you like it," John said softly.

Taking the box onto his lap, Jeff opened it. Inside was a black leather bomber jacket. He held out the jacket, admiring its stylishness. Then he noticed the patches. Not just any patches, but the insignia of a number of space programs and vessels. Apollo. Gemini. Shuttle Endeavor. And placed prominently over the left breast was the insignia of Mission Lunar Return. The Mission. His Mission. He was speechless.

_........grabbing Gordon and pulling him onto the passenger elevator, the look of shock and bewilderment on John's face........_

_........the concern, the seriousness in Alan's eyes as they left the safe confines of Thunderbird Three to go who knew where into who knew what........_

He bent forward. His face drained of color.

"Oh, God."

A searing pain in his side sent him back against the bed, clutching his head with his one good hand.

_........the red flash........_

_........flying through the with the big stalactite........_

_........the pain of impact on his side... his arm... his head within the helmet........_

_........the world going from red.... to gray.... to black........_

He groaned, closing his eyes, arching his neck and back against the bed. Alarmed, the family moved closer to him, Scott bringing Brains up to where he had access to Jeff.

"What's wrong, Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked in a sharp tone calculated to get Jeff's attention.

"Oh, God, no. No!"

Brains did the unthinkable. He reached out and slapped Jeff. "Mr. Tracy!" he bellowed.

The shock of the slap and the voice brought Jeff to his senses. He looked around wildly at his family and friends standing near the bed, a variety of expressions from shock to pain to sympathy on their faces. He shook his head.

"Oh, God. Brains, Scott!" His voice was full of pain.

"What is it, Dad? What's the matter?" Scott pressed earnestly, anxiously.

"I.... remember!"


	22. Chapter 21 The World Goes 'Round

Here's that pesky little disclaimer again: 

I don't own them, Carlton and Gerry do. I'm not making money off of them. I'm just having fun with them. And many, many thanks to my betareaders Boomercat and ArtisticRainey for the help they've given me so far!

* * *

**Chapter 21--The World Goes 'Round**

Scott came up behind Jeff, a mug of hot coffee in each hand.

"Here, Dad."

Jeff turned and gave Scott a small, weary smile. He took the proffered cup in his free hand.

"Thanks, son."

"You're welcome, Dad."

Jeff turned back to the windows in the lounge. He was dressed in a short- sleeved button down shirt and casual slacks, looking comfortable and business-like at the same time. His arm was still in a sling, and there were still light bandages beneath the shirt, supporting his ribs. But the concussion was healing, and now, three weeks later, Brains had let him out of the sick room. Jeff was admonished that he was to rest whenever a headache threatened and he had been warned that he was on light duty with Tracy Industries. Brains also made it very clear that Jeff was banned from any participation in rescues for the next month. Even directing from the desk was forbidden.

"Too much s-stress," was the reason given.

Sipping the hot beverage, he stared out the windows, spattered now with the occasional raindrop as the island was soaked with a warm, windy rainstorm. Scott stood with him, quietly enjoying the stormy weather from his dry perspective.

"How's John doing?" Jeff asked, not turning his head.

"Great! Jeannette hasn't had half the trouble she thought she would with you out of commission. John has taken on the workload and is keeping up with it. Things are running smoothly at corporate." Scott answered.

"Good." Jeff responded.

It had been difficult to come up with a plausible explanation for Jeff's injuries that could be released to the personnel at Tracy Industries. Finally, Gordon came up with a believable plane crash scenario and that was the story circulated company-wide. It was also the story given to the media when they got wind of Jeff's incapacitation. Several requests for interviews were turned down, and the family had to be quick to keep overly zealous reporters from landing on the island, trying to get an exclusive. The problem was greatly reduced when the Tracy family lawyers began filing "home invasion" suits against the parent companies for which the reporters worked.

With John in New York, and Jeff unable to participate in rescues, Tin-Tin went up to Thunderbird 5, much to Alan's dismay. Her tasks while there included trying to find a good way to automate the satellite. Brains brought Braman back to earth so he could tinker with his tin man, the goal being that perhaps a more sophisticated software program would make it possible for Braman to run the space station and relay messages to the Island. Then all of the Tracy sons would be on Earth and available for rescues.

Cross training was continuing, with the simulator reset for Thunderbird Two. Virgil was nervous as a cat watching his younger siblings, and, indeed, his older brother, "fly" his baby. Many of the "mistakes" they made, especially Gordon's, were done solely to annoy and tease Virgil.

Even in the midst of the good things going on, of the plans that Jeff had outlined becoming reality, Scott was aware of a feeling of melancholy in his father. Jeff wasn't smiling as much as he had before, nor was he taking even a cursory interest in what was going on around the Villa. It was so unlike his father that Scott had to wonder if perhaps he had become depressed in the aftermath of the disastrous rescue on the moon.

"Seems like Lady Luna got back some of her own," Jeff said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

"How so, Dad?" Scott queried. Jeff started as if he'd forgotten Scott was there. He sighed.

"I told you she was a harsh mistress, and that my love for your mother and you and your brothers led me away from her. Which was as it should have been. But she nearly took my life when I finally returned to her." Jeff sipped his coffee again. "Avenging herself on the lover who spurned her." He turned toward his son with a rueful smile. "Sounds pretty silly, doesn't it, Scott?"

"Fanciful, perhaps. But not silly." Scott commented. "Kind of like... the sea. All those stories about men who love the sea like a mistress. Though I'm sure Gordon knows a lot more about those stories than I do."

"Hmmm. Maybe he does." Jeff turned back toward the windows. "Well," he continued in a heartier voice, "I won't be going back again. And this," he indicated the sling, "won't happen again either. No more rescues for me."

Scott was shocked and pleased at the same time. But he let just the shock through as he asked, "Why not?"

Jeff looked down at his feet briefly, shuffling them as he considered the question. "I can't cut it, Scott. I'm too old. I know that now." He gazed out at the rain and wind. "I didn't want to get old, didn't want to feel old. But I did, and I do. Even the rescues didn't make me feel... young again. Not like I felt when I was young, and everything was new and exciting."

_Yes! He's admitting it!_ "Is that what you were looking for, Dad? The excitement and feelings you had when you were young?" Scott asked quietly.

Jeff was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. And sighed. "Yes, Scott. I wanted to feel young again. Wanted to experience the adrenaline rush that I remember from my first trip to the moon. All those reasons I gave, they were just cover-up for the reality. And in the end, there wasn't any rush. Just pain." Jeff's voice dropped to a whisper. "Just a lot of pain."

The two men stood without talking; Scott, unsure what to say next, and Jeff lost in his own thoughts, brooding.

"So, Dad. What does this all mean? What are you going to do? How will this affect your plans for Tracy Industries and for International Rescue?" Scott finally questioned. "Because, whether you meant them as cover for your real purpose or not, they are still good plans. Still necessary plans, to my thinking."

Jeff shrugged. "I don't know, Scott. I suppose we'll continue with them. Continue with the cross training and the time at corporate headquarters. Continue rotating who is at the desk during a rescue. Continue looking for a way to automate Thunderbird Five. Because with me not going out on rescues, you'll need every man available. It will be tough on everyone when people take their vacations, but those will have to be factored into the scheduling as well. I'm not taking those gifts away from any of you. We'll probably have to start looking outside the family for help, too. Not the best scenario, but the only one I can see."

"And what about you, Dad? Where do you fit in with these plans for the future?" Scott wanted to know. He watched his father's face intently.

Jeff lowered his eyes and his head. "I don't think I do fit in, Scott. You and your brothers need to take over the reins, and take them now, before you really have to. I'm ready to step back and let you boys... you _men_... run the show." He drained his coffee mug, not looking at Scott.

"Oh no, you don't," Scott growled. He stepped over to his father and turned him around so he could look the older man in the eye. "You're not stepping down just yet. You want us to take the reins, fine, we will. When we are ready. And we are not ready. Not by a long shot." He took hold of his father's upper arms and gave him a little shake. Jeff looked at him in surprise.

"You may not be cut out to go on rescues; I won't argue with you there. But you're also not a useless old man either. We have a lot to learn about the ins and outs of our family businesses, both the overt and the covert, and you are the only one who can teach us. The only one."

Scott stuck his finger in his father's face and shook it. "So don't you go around thinking that you're all wrung out and through with life. No sir! You've got a lot of good years left, teaching us, and perhaps one day even teaching our children what a privilege it is to be part of these dreams of yours." He stood back and folded his arms, looking at his father stubbornly. "And if you don't believe me, ask Grandma. She'll tell you the same thing. Hell, she'll show you! Age hasn't slowed her down any!"

Jeff just stared at Scott, dumbfounded. Then he began to chuckle.

"You looked and sounded just like your grandmother right then, Scott. Are you sure she didn't put you up to this?"

Scott blinked repeatedly. Then he began to laugh.

"I guess I must have," he agreed. "But, no, Dad. She didn't put me up to this. I'm just tired of seeing you moping and brooding and generally acting like you're useless. You need to take this down time to rest and recuperate and gradually get back into doing what you do best. Leading us and teaching us."

Jeff sighed, and then smiled wryly. "You're right, Scott. I'll try to be patient with my recovery. And I'll remember what you said about not being useless. It's hard to sit still sometimes; you end up feeling like everyone is passing you by."

"But when you're fully recovered, Dad, you'll be out there running with the best of them," Scott assured him. He put a hand on Jeff's shoulder and squeezed it, then moved his hand and arm around his father's back in a conspiratorial manner.

"Now, if you want to take Thunderbird Three on the run up to Thunderbird Five again some time, I wouldn't be against it. There are times I hate being John and Alan's chauffeur."

"I'll keep that in mind, Scott. I'll keep that in mind."


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Hey, Dad! Do you have a minute?"

Jeff looked up from his seat behind the desk. He was leaning back in his comfortable chair, his feet up, finishing up the novel he had started in the sick room.

"Sure, Alan. What do you need?"

Alan approached his father nervously. _I hope he goes for this!_

"Well, you know that race you entered me in? The Paris to Dakar road rally?"

"Yes, I remember it. What's wrong? Don't you want to do it?"

Alan shook his head violently. "No, no, that's not it at all! I'm really excited about it! I can hardly wait!"

Jeff put down his book. "Then, what is it, Alan?"

"Well... I'm allowed to choose my mechanic, and I've gotten in touch with Kenny Malone, and he says he'll do it. He's all excited about it, too. But I also have to have a navigator and second driver... just in case." Alan fidgeted before his father's desk. "Well, I was wondering... I was hoping... Dad, will you be my navigator?"

Jeff just looked at Alan for a long minute, and then he sat back in his chair.

"Me? You want me to be your navigator?" he asked incredulously. "Don't you have someone else you could ask? Someone from your racing friends?"

"Well, I suppose I could ask Tyler Morgan. He'd probably do it." Alan admitted. "But the fact is, Dad, I want you! You'd keep us on the right path, and we could have some time together. You know, father-son time."

Jeff took in some air and blew it out. "Well, Alan, I'm... flattered. Flattered that you asked me. And you're right, it would be good to have some... father-son time with you. Tell you what, let me check the schedule, and if there are enough people to handle rescues, I'll do it. I'll be your navigator."

"YES!" Alan shouted in happy triumph. "Dad, I've already checked the schedule and everything should be cool. John is scheduled for Thunderbird Five, and Scott is going out to corporate, so that leaves Virgil, Gordon, Brains, and Tin-Tin for rescues. That's enough people, isn't it?"

"Well, yes. It's a skeleton crew, but it should be enough," Jeff agreed. He looked at Alan's excited and happy face. "Well, Alan, looks like you have yourself a navigator."

"Oh, this is sooo cool! Wait until I tell Kenny! You won't regret this, Dad, really you won't. We're going to have a great time together!" Alan said as he backed out of the lounge, bolting at the doorway.

Jeff chuckled to himself. _Really, the boy is so excitable!_ Then the thought struck him and he groaned, hitting his head with his good hand.

_Twenty-five days! Twenty-five days... with Alan! What did I get myself into?_


End file.
